


A Court of Dark and Decay

by maas_trash



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cassian is also daddy, Crying on the bathroom floor, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gratuitous Smut, Healing, Healing Sex, I Love You, Justice, M/M, Makeup Sex, Mates, Mating Bond, Mental Health Issues, Mommy Issues, Nesta is daddy, Oral Sex, Ouch, Pain, Post-A Court of Frost and Starlight, Post-A Court of Mist and Fury, Post-A Court of Wings and Ruin, Powerful Women, Revolution, Rough Sex, SIKE, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Spoilers, War, actually good representation, also though sex on the bathroom floor, devlon is a tool, hate kink, just like me lol, mature - Freeform, mlm, my sanity is gone, plz read, wlw, yours will be too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 114,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maas_trash/pseuds/maas_trash
Summary: Nesta Archeron has spend the last 6 months suppressing her power, her memories, and anything she and that Illyrian brute shared. Now, because of Feyre and her intervention, she is forced to travel with Cassian to the Illyrian Mountians to... to what? Get sober? Gain weight? Dig up what she has worked so hard to bury? No. Nesta would never let that happen. Let them cart her off with that bastard to the end of the world. He had stopped fighting for her the night of Solstice. She would never be a part of their perfect circle. She didn't want to be. Cassian would see that, and their little trip would end.Wouldn't it?
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 172
Kudos: 534





	1. Chapter 1-'I'll Leave'

Nesta's vision turned red.

She understood why Feyre wanted her out of Velaris. In fact, if Feyre had looked at Nesta right then and told her she never wanted to see her again she would've understood that too. Somewhere deep within her it would have hurt more then she wanted to admit, but she understood. She had done nothing but sucked their money and spat in their faces. She was of no use to them. Feyre had a life, a happiness that made Nesta's heart ache. But Nesta would never fit into that life.

So Nesta would go. She would leave Velaris. Where the hell she would go, she had no idea. But it was clear – she was not wanted here.

No one had wanted her here for a long time.

But if Feyre thought for one second Nesta was going to go anywhere with the oversize winged dog that sat to her left, she was sorely mistaken.

Ignoring the pain in her chest, Nesta stood, looking at the open doors to the garden. She could sense Rhysands darkness pooling in the room at Nesta's dismissal of Feyre's words. He was another part of Feyre's life but she would never get along with.

"I'll leave." She said, low and cold.

She started walking toward the door leading out into the hallway. Suddenly this house, this palace of Feyre's, was so vast. So expensive yet suffocating her at the same time. She had to get out. Get away from the eyes staring at her, judging her, disarming her.

No one said anything as she approached the door. She could sense Rhysand following behind her. She turned only her head looking over her shoulder at Feyre still seated on the couch.

"I will leave Velaris," She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. "but if you try to make me go anywhere with that Illyrian bastard, that scum, I will rip out his wings with my teeth."

She didn't dare look at Cassian as she turned to leave the room. Her rage was endless. It filled her mind, her soul. Something dark and old stirred in her, that thing that was always there, that pressure as if she were 100 feet underwater. If she did not leave soon, she was going to burst. But Rhysand was already in front of her. His face was pure darkness.

"What did you just call my brother?" Rhysand hissed. He was two feet in front of her, and his darkness pooled at her feet.

Feyre stood. "Rhys, back off." she warned. Rhysand did no such thing.

Nesta met the eyes of her sister's mate, the most powerful High Lord in the history of Pyrthian, and said, "You heard me."

"You have spent the last 6 months denying any assistance from us other then the thousands you've spent on booze and rent, yet we still fund you." He stepped toward her.

She knew he could smell her fear, but she did not back away one inch. The rage poured over her, under her, through her.

"You don't talk to any of us. You ignore your own sisters - you ignore Elain. Yet she still holds out hope you might visit. Did you know that?"

Her heart clenched at the mention of her younger sister. "You leave her out of this."

All she saw was red hot rage.

"Rhysand, don't-"

He cut Feyre off.

"You bed anyone who's drunk enough to want to. You're clothes are dirty, and I can still smell wine and sex on you. Yet you have the nerve to insult the male who still believes this -" he looked her up and down, "-shell you've become can be fixed?"

Nesta went still. Rage turned black within her. Black and thick like tar. She needed out.

So she closed the distance between her and the High Lord, so they were merely inches apart. She keep eye contact with him, his eyes like violet snakes waiting to strike. Then stepped to his left, and walked around him. She made it two steps out the door- needing to leave, needing to breathe- when Rhysand grabbed her arm. Hard.

"You are going. This isn't a choice-" He pulled her back into the room by her elbow.

And because she was never going to see him again, because she had already ruined herself and her morals and her time in Velaris was clearly over, she did what she had been wanting to for a long time. Pushing aside her fear of him and his dark power, she threw her arm back and whipped it around connecting her palm to the side of the High Lord of the Night Court's face.

Feyre's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

"NESTA!" She roared in disbelief or shock or hurt or anger. Nesta could not tell. Because she ignored it.

Rhysand did not lift his face back to meet Nesta's eyes.

So she leaned in and said to his red cheek,

"Let's have this conversation now, then. Whatever claim you have over Feyre, it ends there, with her. I am not your subject. I am not your family. I am not yours to control. You do not give me orders, and I am so fucking sick of you trying to." His grip on her elbow loosened and she walked out of the room.

She called over her shoulder "I'll be gone in two days. You'll never hear from me again, just like you want."

Leaving the High Lord and lady, the stupid house, and the Illyrian's deep hazel eyes behind, she went back to her apartment. The four locks clicked open and she hurriedly shut the door behind her- careful to set the lock back into place.

The shaking would start soon. She could feel it, the vibration inside of her. That thing begging, pleading to be let out, to be used, to consume. On unsteady feet, she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a drink. It burned going down, but it quieted the rage, the darkness inside her. If only for a little while.

She stalked to her sofa, taking her shoes off and flinging them anywhere. She plopped down onto the musty cushions.

What the hell was she going to do?

She knew it was his idea. That over-sized bat had always tried to butt into her life. She knew Illyrian males were used to being the saviors, the champions, the rescuers. Quite frankly, she knew she needed rescuing. While Rhysand was a controlling asshole, he was right. She had no place in Velaris. This city of light and life and positivity was dulled by her wine-stained presence. She did not belong here. She did not know where she would go.

She had a suspicion bat boy would try to convince her to go, if only for Feyre's sake.

She never allowed herself to dwell on him. On what tightened inside of her whenever he was near. Her heart jumped then even thinking about it.

Even though she denied it, even though she tried to forget, she saw his face every night. Even when another male lay asleep beside her. The scene from the war replayed in her dreams.

The truth he spoke. Of his feeling, his intentions. How his eyes look, tear brimmed and determined. How his lips felt on hers; chapped but soft, gentle, slow. Not wanting anything more, not pushing to take, but just happy to receive.

The feeling of his hands on her face. His callouses scraping against her cheek as he spoke to her, kissed her. His hands on her back. Over her shoulders. As she covered his body with her own.

If they were going down, they were going down together.

And no matter how many times she woke up cursing his name, damning him, scrubbing her lips with a washcloth to try to get the feeling of him off, she still knew. She knew if they were in that position again she would do the same thing. She would die with him. They would die together.

And she hated herself for that.

*********************************

Cassian tried to find words, but none came. He just stared at his brother as Rhys put a hand to his face. He pulled the hand away to find blood. Rhys's nose was bleeding.

Feyre moved, picking up a handkerchief from a nearby desk and helped Rhys put it to his nose.

"I couldn't lift my eyes. I couldn't move. She wouldn't let me move." Rhys stared at Feyre.

"I didn't even see her raise her hand." Rhys breathed, more shocked then in pain. "She made me bleed." he noted, as if only then realizing it.

"Here, hold this." Feyre said, lifting his other hand to hold the handkerchief to his nose. "I'm going to talk to her. This is my fault. I'm so sorry, Rhys. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Cassian crossed the floor of the sitting room to put a hand on Feyre's shoulder. "Don't." He said to her. "She needs space and time. I know she hurt Rhys and as his mate you have to protect him, but you need to think without the bond right now."

Cassian turned toward Rhys. "You said she wouldn't let you move?" His brother nodded his head, eyes glossed over. "She is dangerous untrained. And if just by hitting me she released enough power to make me bleed, she clearly hasn't touched her power since the war. Not intentionally at least." Rhys replied.

Feyre looked both of the males over, thinking. "She'll go insane if she doesn't use it." Rhys hummed in agreement. "You have to convince her to go to those mountains with you, Cassian." "She could be one of our greatest assets in quelling the Ilyrian unrest if trained properly. We could stop another war before it even begins." he added.

Feyre glared at Rhys. "And it would save her life. Having her breathing is more important then turning her into some kind of weapon." Her face turned a shade of red. "You promised me you would stay out of it. You had to hit every weak spot, didn't you? It wasn't enough that this whole intervention would be embarrassing for her and stressful for all of us- you had to push her further."

"Feyre, you know that not-"

Cassian stalked out of the room before he could hear Rhys's retort. That would be a fun conversation. He could have just gone to his room. He could have gone to a bar and gotten a drink. He probably needed one. But he didn't. He left the estate and found himself on the banks of the Sidra.

He didn't let himself think of that night often. The night of Solstice. When he had thrown Nesta's gift into the very same sea he was sitting in front of. They had barely spoken since then. Two, maybe three words. But he still felt it- that pull. Toward her. He still flew above her apartment every night to make sure she was safe. More and more nights the smell of some male was mixed with hers. It took everything in him, every second of his 500 years not to fly down and gut whoever was sharing her bed. He couldn't stand the thought of it. But he couldn't stand the thought of her being alone either.

Yet here he was, thinking about it.

Where was she planning on going? She couldn't go to the human lands and the relationships with the other courts were to fragile for her to seek a home there. He hadn't expected the conservation to be easy, but he hadn't expected her to decide to abandon them.

The training in the mountains had been his idea. A place for her to learn her power safely, curb her addiction, and put some meat back on her bones. What better place then the Mountians? Feyre and Rhys had agreed, though it was a great idea.

Truthfully, he wanted to be alone with her. In his gut he knew that was why he really suggested it. She was carrying so much, behind her ice there was such heaviness and sorrow. He knew what that was like. He knew how it felt. To have everything taken from you, to feel like you have no one and nothing. Cassian wanted- needed- to help Nesta. If not for whatever it was he felt toward her, then for Feyre and Elain's sake. Elain had even planted a small patch of roses for Nesta, commenting, "They remind me so much of her. Beautiful. But you just cant ever get close. You'll get hurt if you do." Elain's face in that moment made Cassians heart shatter.

He sat in the sand. She would destroy herself if she didn't at least learn to control her power, if not how to fight with it. He took his pinky finger and started sketching something in the sand. When he had asked Feyre how to draw faces that summer she hadn't questioned it. She was happy to teach him. He sketched all of them, his little family, and those were the sketches he hung in his room.

But he had truly asked Feyre to teach him so he could draw her. Nesta. Not one painting in Feyre and Rhys's new house showed her face. And he thought that was a damn shame. So he sketched. And drew. And asked Feyre for tips and tricks.

Because I'm going to be better then you, that's why.

He had said to her when she finally asked why he wanted to learn. Not entirely a lie. He was getting pretty good.

He looked at his work, the outline of her face and the hair done. He had never been able to get it right, though. He could never capture her coldness. His drawings of her looked almost happy. That was not what Nesta looked like.

The sand dug under his fingernail, but he kept drawing. Long smooth strokes, as he rested his head on his knee.

He should be thinking of ways to get Nesta to come with him to the Mountians. Should be figuring out in advance to apologize for the whole shitty situation they found themselves in.

She had slapped Rhys. She slapped him. And cauldron damn him, but it may have been one of the sexiest things Cassian had ever seen. Nesta had slapped the most powerful High Lord in history. As if she were slapping a fly off her arm. She was nothing if not ballsy.

He supposed it would be another moment that replayed in his mind, his dreams.

She now had a nose, a mouth, and those high carved cheekbones. He could never get her eyes or eyebrows right. They held a strength, a power he could never capture in a thousand drawings. But he still tried every time anyway. He shifted rolled onto his stomach, propping his head on his left hand, drawing with his right.

"You look so stupid right now."

Cassian jumped at the voice behind him.

Amren stared down at him.

She had been in the meeting. Had said nothing, safe for a few insults directed toward Nesta that made his blood boil. He assumed she left the estate shortly after he did.

"You look stupid all the-"

"If you finish that sentence I will follow through on Nestas promise to you." She seethed.

Although he wasn't done with his drawing, Cassian got up from the ground and brushed himself off. "Did you know she kneed me in the balls once?" He asked Amren.

Amren let out a loud bark of a laugh. "That does not surprise me on bit." She started walking back toward the city. He followed.

"Have you figured out how you're going to get her to go with you?"

Cassian walked beside her, and glanced sidelong at her. "Why the hell do I have to do it?"

Amren walked up the steps off the shore of the Sidra and onto the cobblestone walkway. Night was nearing, and Velaris was a tapestry of light and sound. "You know why, Cassian. Don't play stupid with me."

They walked through the streets. He recognized this path. Had walked it too many times.

Amren stopped before that final left turn toward that damn apartment. He could smell her, even from here. That smell that haunted him wherever he went.

"You're the only one that can." Amren said beside him.

And then she was gone.

And Cassian knew what he had to do.

He kicked off the ground, flying back to the House of Wind.  
5/1/2020


	2. Chapter 2- 'You Are Here'

Something woke Nesta up.

A pull.

Look outside.

She was slumped over on her couch in the living room, and the sky was just barely changing colors, a light purple wash outside her window. She would have shut that, but the voice in her gut said,

I'm here.

She rubbed her eyes.

Her head pounded. Sitting up, she took in her measly home. The purple seeped in through the open window, filling the room with the haze of the oncoming dawn. She had fallen asleep on the couch, still in her dress from the day before. She got up and trudged into her room, peeling off the dress.

She drew herself a bath.

Water, any liquid really, reminded her of that throne room. The Cauldron. Her transformation.

Putting on her sky blue silk robe, she pulled her hair up and sat on the edge of the tub. It had taken her months to even dip her foot into a bathtub. Months more to put her leg, then her entire lower half. Her new goal was fully submerging herself. It would be many more months before she could do that. But, she could get her full body- exempting her head- under the water. She slipped off the robe and hung it on the hook on the door.

Just because she could do it doesn't mean it was easy.

The tinderbox on the bathroom counter scraped and hissed as she lit the match. Taking too much time, being to careful, she lit every candle in the room. There were more by the day, 37 in total. She had gone to the market two days ago and bought 3 more. She couldn't bathe if there was even a speck of darkness anywhere in the room. Couldn't breath if there was.

Satisfied at the light in the room, she turned back to the tub.

She still had to go in one inch at a time.

She set her left foot in first, taking a full 30 seconds to get it under. Her breath was heavy, loud.

She had to put a hand to her chest to steady herself.

She worked her right foot in. She was now standing with her feet completely in the water. She couldn't look at them, distorted by the moving water.

She blinked.

As her eyes were closed, just for that millisecond, the water shifted over her feet.

dark black deep dragging breath life death DEATH DEATH DEA-

"Eyes open. Keep your eyes open." She instructed herself as she opened her eyes wide enough to hurt, to take in all the light in the room.

She slowly got down on her knees, one at a time. Every sound, every kiss of the water on her ankles, shins, knees, thighs made her gasp for breath.

"You are here, you are here, you are here" She repeated. Over and over. Reigning her mind back into the bathroom.

i can't breathe there is no air my lungs are screaming the blackness is everywhere i am everywhere

She was kneeling now, knuckles white from gripping the edge of the small tub.

The water was black.

She felt the grip of a familiar nightmare pulling her down, down, down.

Invading her, sinking teeth in, gently kissing her skin. Felt the darkness pool in her blood, her very being.

She shut her eyes tightly, betraying her senses. Tired to remember how to breath.

"You. Are. Here." She stuttered. She tried to say the words again, but her throat closed.

Cold tears streaked down her face. It felt like rain.

It was raining that night. I only knew that because when I was running from him, my shoes slipped in the mud.

She opened her eyes again, and the water was normal. She stiffly stretched her legs out in front of her, letting the water rush over her bottom, her hips, her front. She felt it snake into all her creases. Water had a way of getting over, under, through. It had a way of getting within.

She resisted the urge to lift her right arm and point it toward the wall, almost seeing the King of Hybern sitting on a throne in front of her. She remembered that moment, when she let the water, the darkness, take her under, promising death to the king.

She remembered how she felt his tendons and bones and cartilage crack and snap and rip as she dug that dagger into his neck, his warm blood spattering on her face. She remember how right it felt. How she still didn't feel bad about decapitating him and throwing his head on the ground like trash.

The water was still normal, still swishing over her skin.

She grabbed the soap she kept on the rim, and started to wash her legs. She did this before she tried to take that final step and submerged her upper body so that if she couldn't bring herself to do it- which was more often then she cared to admit- she would still have at least washed part of herself.

The lather smelled of roses, rain, and cinnamon rum. Her favorite soap, made by a blonde boy in the market. It calmed her very bones. Helped her lungs fill with air. Helped her heart beat.

As she let the water flow over her legs, smoothing her hands over them to wash the soap off, the darkness inside her eased. The water turned a murky cream color.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her forehead on her knees, letting her hair fall around her. She breathed in the lingering scent of the soap deeply, preparing her for the next hardest part of the bath.

One vertebrae at a time, she rolled her spine back, lowering herself into the water.

She felt the water against her lower back, swallowing her stomach. She let the arms around her knees release and rest on the rim of the bathtub as she continued lowering herself into the water.

I've been waiting for you, spitfire.

A desolate, ancient voice called to her from the cavern below her feet. To deep.

"You are here." She whispered to herself. "You are here."

You have taken something from me, spitfire.

She flinched as her shoulder blades finally hit the water.

The water was black.

She rested her head on the back of the tub, letting the water pool in her collarbones, her ribs, the dip of her hips. She hadn't eaten in two days.

Nesta could feel the tendrils of the Cauldron wrapping around her ankles, her legs, her waist, and she went deeper and deeper into oblivion.

"You are here." She breathed as the water finally crested her chest, her breasts.

The weight of the water was to much. She was submerged in tar. Hot, heavy, burning tar.

The water was black.

That darkness, that hunger, surrounded her, feed on her, became her. A tendril wrapped around her throat. Tightened.

"You are here." she mouthed to no one.

She remember the darkness pulling her. The darkness speaking. She remembered fighting, thrashing, screeching as her body was burned from the inside out. She was nothing. She raged and took and took and took. Revenge. So much had been taken from her, her family, her people, and now her body, her being, her very essence, was not hers. As she was reformed, cell by cell, she willed her soul to take take TAKE TAKE

She remember the male with hazel eyes. The one who called her name.

What is my name?

She could not stop staring.

The water was black.

"You.." She couldn't finish.

Not as the blackness dragged her down, down, down.

She heard a distant sound before the black water swept over her eyes.

And she was not scared to face this darkness. She welcomed it.

_________________________________

Cassian wasn't ready for this confrontation. He didn't think he ever would be. But Amren was right. He was the only one that could do this.

He hadn't slept. Had only paced and sat and drew and paced some more. Just as the sun spilled over the horizon, filling the sky with color, he took off from the House of Wing toward her apartment.

She probably wouldn't even let him. He would show her, would be vulnerable to her, and she would laugh in his face. He had prepared for that. Was ready to face that blatant rejection.

But maybe, just maybe, she would let him in. Listen to him.

Maybe.

He landed on the street below, and entered the decrepit building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. His pack weighed heavy on his hip and he walked.

One....two....three....

"Fourth door on the right." He said to himself. Her door. He could smell her, lingering. She was home. Probably heard his footsteps and was planning a witty retort to whatever the hell he was going to say.

What was he going to say?

His hand knocked on the door before he could answer that for himself.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Nothing. No movement, not even a breath inside.

Furring his brows, he knocked again, with the same result.

Fear and fury locked around his mind, his heart.

He closed his eyes, and pulled on that thing inside him.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, his body was solid and heavy, sinking down down down

But not the Sidra. No. She was here. And she needed help.

"Shit." He swore. He tried the door, locked. Obviously, he thought to himself.

He shoved his shoulder against it, once, twice, three times. He remembered the few times he had been here, and how there were magical locks as well. The door wasn't an option.

His mind went terribly clear and he felt the thing inside him sag, as if it was slipping out of the fingers on the other end.

No, not slipping. The other end was letting go.

Nesta was letting go.

He hopelessly pounded on the door and shouted, "NESTA!" as he banged his shoulder against the door more.

He stepped back, his war instincts telling him- there's always another way. Find it. Find her.

So he took off running down the stairs and out of the building, taking off the second his feet hit the cobblestone outside.

He shot into the air and around to the side of the building.

One...two...three...

Four.

The fourth window was open. Nesta had left her window open.

"Thank fuck." Cassian breathed as he shot through the open window. He landed on a musty couch and threw his pack down. He took precious seconds to look around. Nesta wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen. He turned and ran into the bedroom.

The door to the bathroom was open.

Go.

He could see her form in the tub. Unmoving.

His body screamed move move move

He did. Not caring how she would scold him, or how she might hit him like she hit Rhys.

There were candles everywhere. It was so bright he had to squint his eyes to see properly.

She lay in the tub, fully submerged, the faucet still on and the water running over the side of the tub. Not one bubble came from her mouth, her nose.

Cassian lunged for her, pulling her out of the water, making an even bigger mess of the bathroom. Some of the candles on the floor hissed as they puttered out.

She flopped over his shoulder, and he sat on the floor letting her legs fall into his lap. He reached around her and turned off the spigot.

"Nesta." He commanded, ordering her to open her eyes, to yell at him, to hit him, to come back.

He had one arm around her waist, to small, and moved her face to his with his other hand. Her eyes were closed. He tried to sit her up straighter, to face him directly.

"Nesta?"

Silence. Stillness.

"Don't. Don't do this to me. Please." He begged.

What the fuck was happening?

His head was mud. He couldn't think. Couldn't react. Some primal part of him was the only thing within him moving, working, thinking.

And that primal part of him already had Nesta on the floor, beginning chest compressions.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

He pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

He pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 -


	3. Chapter 3- '

Nesta sprang up, coughing up water onto the already wet tiles. He put his hand on her back and she seemed to lean into the touch, her body unable to hold itself up completely.

After a few moments, she finally stopped coughing. He saw a blue robe on the hook on the door. The bottom of it brushed the floor and was discolored because of the wetness.

Standing, keenly aware of the warmth of her back leaving his hand, Cassian grabbed the robe and put it around Nesta's shoulders. She was still facing away from him, breathing heavily.

"You are here." She said to herself, her hands roaming her body, as if only now remembering she had one.

She turned her head to look at him, as if only now remembering he was even there. Her eyes went wide as she said, ever so quietly, "You are here."

He dare not touch her again. He had nothing to say.

She, however, did.

"How did you get in" She said flatly, threading her arms through the robe and tying the front, still on her knees on the floor, leaning an arm against the edge of the tub.

So Cassian sat on the floor next to her, leaning his back against the tub, adjusting his large wings to fit the space.

"Your window was open. Really any ruffian could have gotten in." He looked straight forward toward the door. That thing inside him was telling him, hold her comfort her press against her kiss

He shut his thoughts down.

"A ruffian did get in." She lifted her head to look at him over her shoulder. "And interrupted my bath." She took a deep breath, as if saying that one sentence took to much of her oxygen.

Cassian had to clasp his hands together to keep from reaching for her.

Nesta stood, Cassian shooting to his feet seconds after her. She glared at him and side stepped around him. She looked at the drain at the bottom of the tub. Her arm flinched, as if it wanted to move but couldn't.

She simply turned to face him.

He braced himself.

"Pull the drain."

And she walked out of the bathroom.

So Cassian pulled the drain and followed her.

"Nesta,-" Cassian started, but Nesta beat him to it.

"I don't want you in my house. I will not go with you to the mountains. You have no right to barge in here uninvited." She wasn't even looking at him from across the bedroom where she was rifling through her armoire. Her room was tidy and simple. Completely undercoated.

Cassian's tongue strangled on his next words.

"Where you trying to drown yourself, Nesta?" Cassian breathed, something deep within him cracking, shifting at the words, at the reality. He fought the stinging in his eyes.

Nesta sprang up straight, looking directly at him with her grey eyes. The sun was rising behind her, illuminating her body through the silk robe. She was rail thin. He could almost make out the curves of her rib cage, the angles of her hip bones. Her thighs didn't touch. He had been able to feel every shift of her collarbones when he lifted her from the tub.

Without waiting her her reply, already brewing in her cold eyes, he said "When was the last time you ate something?"

Nesta stiffened. Even though she was skin and bone, she was still more beautiful then the sunset behind her.

"That is none of your business." She sneered. Looking in the open armoire, she pulled out undergarments and threw them on the bed. "And I wasn't trying to drown myself." She added, more timid then Cassian had ever heard her speak.

"You weren't breathing. I had to-"

"What? You had to what?" Nesta jabbed as she grabbed a dress from the armoire and the undergarments off the bed. "Save me? Thank you so much." She spat. "My prince. My hero. My savior." She reeked of sarcasm as she stepped behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room.

Cassian sat on the bed. Everything in this room smelled of her. Rose and rain. And... was that rum or cinnamon?

He huffed, "Not what I-"

Nesta interrupted him again as she flung the blue robe over the top of the dressing screen. "Isn't it though? You males" She chewed on the word, "thrive off that. I bet you came here wanting me to be drowning in my tub, or drunk off my ass, or almost falling out my window so you could save me. "

The rustling of clothes stopped and Nesta stepped out from behind the dressing screen in a simple deep purple dress with lilac lace on the bodice. He had never seen her wear a light color like that.

She looked stunning.

"Why did you come?" She asked, the tone not as snarky as he would have expected.

He was still sitting on the bed. Still trying to wrap his brain around the events of this morning.

Cassian's voice felt shaky. "I felt it. I felt you letting go, Nesta. You did try to-"

Nesta's eyes burned, silencing him with her stare. "Out."

Cassian didn't move.

"You didn't feel me doing anything, because you can't." She didn't back away one step as he stood. She only pointed toward the door.

Cassian reached for that thing inside him, that thing that was singing in her presence. He found it, shining and glorious, and tugged on it.

Nesta stumbled forward. It was a few steps before she caught herself, now only a foot in front of him.

She stared at him, and he saw the emotions in her eyes.

Confusion, anger, embarrassment, and something else flickered there.

"I can, Nesta. And you did let go." Cassian whispered. He didn't try to hide the emotion in his eyes.

His mind ran wild, what if what if what if what if what if what i

It was like someone had punched him in the gut. Cassian was knocked to the ground, winded. He stared up at her, but Nesta hadn't lifted a finger. His mind was all at once completely silent and screaming. She had used that thing, she had used the bo-

"So what if I did?" She said down to him, before walking out of the bedroom into the living room.

Cassian stared.

So what if I did?

He faintly heard Nesta shuffling around outside the bedroom.

He couldn't imagine it. A world without Nesta shuffling or yelling or glaring. He didn't even know if he could live in a world like that.

He had to get her to the mountains.

He stood, but was imminently pushed on to the bed as his pack was thrown against his chest.

The flap was open, so as Nesta threw it at him, all of his drawings of her flew out and flitted about the room. Nesta held one in her hand. In the drawing, only from her hips up, she held a book close to her chest as she looked up to the stars. Her eyes were closed, and he could still see the night he was inspired to draw it.

"What," she steamed, standing in front of him, "are these?"

Cassian looked at her as the papers floated down around them. He wanted to grab her by her waist and pull her in. Explain to her how he couldn't stop seeing her everywhere in everything. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and rest his head on her stomach, hearing her breath in her body. She would brush her hands through his hair, letting the silence speak for itself.

She had used the tie between them. She knew it was there, she acknowledged it, she recognized there was a thread that connected them. Did she know what that meant? Did she know now that they had both not only sensed it's presence, but used it on each other, there was no stopping the road they were going down?

"Cassian." She snapped, spurring him out of his head. She said his name. She said his name and used the thing on the same day. He had to be dreaming.

"What do they look like." He said. What else could he say?

"It's me. Did Feyre draw these? Did she send you here?" Nesta didn't let him say anything before she turned the drawing to herself, looking it over. "You tell her these mean nothing coming from her."

"They aren't from her. Feyre didn't draw these, Nesta." He picked up two drawings near his feet. One was her standing in Elain's garden from her tour of the new estate, and one of her sitting on the couch in the Townhouse, reading one of her smutty romance novels.

He couldn't look up at her as he said, "I drew them."

The skirts of Nesta's dress shifted and she shifted her weight.

"What?"

"I drew the-"

"No, I heard you, I just.." He looked up at Nesta, bracing himself for the damn eyes, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring deep into the drawing, as if seeing it for the first time and not wanting to miss one detail. She took a deep breath, her brows scrunching.

"You can draw?" She asked. He scanned her face, but not trace of spite or sarcasm was present. She was genuinely asking.

"I can try." He said, and her eyes slid to him. "I asked Feyre to teach me." No reaction.

So, now was the time then.

He took a deep breath.

"I asked Feyre to teach me to draw because there is no art of you in their new place. And you can deny all you want, but I know that stings. So I wanted to take a crack at it. Feyre taught me all summer. I draw other people, not just you, but you're the reason I wanted to learn." She was looking at him, brows together, as if the cogs in her mind were whirring a million miles an hour.

He continued, "I came because I wanted you to know that. You don't think there's anything for you here in Velaris. That's why you said you'd leave." He waited for any crude remark, any jab. Nothing came.

"But that's not true." He shrugged. "What the hell am I supposed to draw if you leave?"

______________________________________________

Nesta couldn't wrap her mind around it.

He could draw. Damn her for thinking it, but he was amazing. How had she not known he could draw? Why did it bother her so much that she didn't know?

Why didn't it bother her that she was his muse?

"What the hell am I supposed to draw if you leave?" He said, still looking at her like the last person he'd ever see. He always looked at her like that. And she could not breathe.

She looked around the room, at the scattered drawings.

The one at her feet was breathtaking. Nesta leaned down to pick it up. It was her on the night of Solstice, staring right through the paper back at her. That dress did look great on her. In the drawing, she had her arms stretched out in front of her and her head tilted back, laughing.

Before she could stop herself, she said, "I didn't laugh on Solstice."

Cassian said, "Which one is that?"

As she turned it toward him for him to see, she said, "Is there more then one with me laughing at Solstice?"

Cassian's face reddened as he looked at the drawing. "Well no, but-"

Nesta sat down next to him on the bed.

"I need to see it to remind me what it's about. That one is how I wished Solstice would have gone." He said plainly.

"I haven't really laughed in a while." Nesta let her shoulders slump.

Why did I just say that?

Cassian's hands were shaking. So were Nesta's.

She could feel Cassian's eyes on her, scanning her face. Analyzing the truth she had just told.

She faced him. "Why did you really come?" She said.

Cassian's face, usually smug and cocky, was light and honest and real.

She couldn't look at him any longer.

Cassian said, "You're right."

Nesta didn't smirk as she said, "I usually am, be more specific."

He huffed a laugh. "You can't stay in Velaris. None of the courts will welcome you, not with your standing in our court and post war tensions the way they are. Human lands are off the table, you know that. So, " She stood up, handing Cassian the papers in her hands, leaning over to pick up the ones on the floor.

"So you should just come with me." Cassian said, finally.

Nesta stopped, standing straight up with the papers in her hands. She had cleared the floor on this one side of the bedroom.

Go with him. She couldn't remember why she had been so stubborn about it in the first place.

"Stop that. Now." She told him, realizing he was trying to talk to her through the... thing.

Had she really used that earlier? She wasn't even sure if it was real or just her imagination, then she found it and just pushed. And he fell. And all at once, whatever was between them, his promise to her, their connection, became real and bright and HERE HERE HERE HERE

What did that mean? For her?

And what the hell happened in the bathroom?

She shut her mind off. No, she would not think about it. She would not talk about it. It did not happen. She filed it away in her mind, in that ever growing folder of things that never happened. 

The room was to small. There was not enough oxygen or there was to much- either way she couldn't get a breath in.

Nesta threw the papers to Cassian and stormed away to the balcony. Opening the doors, she stepped out into the dawn. The sun was almost fully up now, and there was movement in the city. She resisted the urge to look toward the edge of Velaris, to the estate. To them. The family she had never and would never be a part of.

Cassian was right. She would kick herself for even thinking that later, but he was right.

She braced her hands on the railing.

She couldn't do this with him. Every male and every drink had been to forget. To ignore. To appease. None of it had worked.

He was everything. He was everywhere. He was a phantom limb. She drank and fucked and starved and slept trying to get rid of that weight. It hadn't worked. Not one night, not one drink, not one day.

Nesta squeezed the railing tighter.

Every time she saw him, all her senses were on high alert. Every second he was near, the Fae in her was screaming, begging, compelling her to look talk hold kiss keep

But she knew what he was. What all Fae males were. What all Illyrians were. Possessive. Primal. Rude. Arrogant. When they found a female, it was even worse. Nesta had no interest in being an Illyrian object. No interest in meeting any other males like Cassian.

But she also knew that if she were to go with him, she wouldn't meet anyone like that.

Because there were no other males like Cassian.

She opened her eyes.

She let go of the railing, straightened her back, and lifted her chin. She drank in the morning sun on her face, letting it settle over her. Letting it sink into her bones.

And she almost smiled at it's warmth.

She turned toward Cassian, who was finishing putting the drawings back in his bag. He stood as soon as he noticed her stare.

She only said calmly, "We are not flying the whole way there. So I hope you have alternative arrangements."

Cassian couldn't hold back his smile as he said, "I do, actually."

Nesta just walked back into her bedroom, and stood in front of Cassian. "I want the picture of me from Solstice, where I'm laughing." She said, holding out her hand.

And that bastard was still smiling as he rifled through his pictures and pulled one out, rolling it up and handing it to Nesta.

As he walked past her, out the bedroom door, toward the main door, she followed and stopped, leaning against the bedroom door.

He unlocked the 4 locks and turned back to her. "We'll leave in three days. I'll come get you. Just pack as much as you can."

She only nodded and the Illyrian slipped through the door, and shut it behind him.


	4. Chapter 4- 'When I Knew'

Nesta did not go out at all that day or that night. She just sat in her room. Thinking about that morning.

Not the bathtub. That was locked away with a million other moments of her life.

No, she was thinking about the drawing Cassian had given her.

He had not given her the drawing from Solstice.

He had given her a drawing of the two of them.

In the drawing, the two of them sat on the couch in the townhouse. She had her legs flung over his lap, lying back against the armrest, reading a book. Behind the book, she had a small smile on her lips, and she was looking over at Cassian. She remembered using that book to hide that smile from him, but clearly he had seen it.

He had one arm flung over the back of the couch, one over her legs. His wings were flopped behind the couch, spreading to take in the sun streaming from the window behind the couch. His face was pure light, laughing at something she had said.

She didn't remember the conversation well, just that it had been one of his more tolerable moments. He had wanted to borrow a book, and refused to leave. She remember how the couch shifted under his weight as he sat. She remembered throwing her legs over his lap, saying he could only stay because she 'needed a footrest, and I suppose that's just the kind of thing you were made for.'

And though she tried not to, she still remember the sound of that barking laugh. That moment was captured in this drawing. At the bottom corner, scrawled in Cassian's rough handwriting, was what she supposed to be the title of the piece.

When I Knew

She stared and stared at the picture. Memorizing every curve, every indent in the parchment. In the afternoon, she walked to her window to hold it up to the sun, watching it stream through the window in the drawing, recreating the moment completely. It was breathtaking.

She didn't know if she wanted to burn it or sew a piece of it into every one of her dresses so she could have it with her always.

She ate all three meals that day, and went to bed - for the first night in a long time - sober and alone.

_________________________________________________

After leaving Nesta's, Cassian flew straight for the House of Wind. He had so many drawings in his mind he could barely keep himself from falling face first when he landed and ran to his room.

Nesta staring at his drawings in awe.

How she had looked in that purple dress.

The light from the dawn shining through her robe.

Standing with her back to him on the balcony, head tilted up, breathing in the morning air.

Leaning against the bedroom door frame as he left her apartment, the faintest smile on her lips.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting at that desk. Cassian was so engulfed in the work, he hardly even registered Azriel sitting on his bed until his brother said,

"Doesn't that make your wrist hurt?"

Cassian didn't look over his shoulder as he responded, "I just have to get it out of my head on paper before I forget." He finished the last line on his last drawing. Later, he would go over it again and perfect it, then trace it with ink.

He turned to his brother. "She said yes. So you'll have to winnow her in."

Az furrowed his brows as he said, "I thought the plan was Rhys was winnowing her and I was winnowing you?"

Cassian chuckled. "She slapped Rhys across the face the other day. I don't think that is still a good plan." He stood and stretched his arms up and his wings out. Az huffed a laugh and walked out of the bedroom. Cassian followed him out. As they walked through the halls, they discussed the logistics of the trip.

Az and Rhys would winnow them to the camps and stay for the first week to oversee Nesta's settling in and to help alleviate any tension at her presence. They also wanted to see for themselves just how bad the unrest at the Illyrian camps had gotten. From there, Cassian would stay at the main camp, checking in the the surrounding camps week by week. Depending on the information they gathered, Rhys and Az would plan accordingly back in Velaris.

The plan was to have Nesta train and work with the Illyrian women. How well that would actually work was yet to be seen.

While discussing just that, Mor walked through the door. "Oof," she snickered, "Were you two lovers having a moment?"

"Ha, ha. Do you ever tire of being so funny?" Az teased.

The tension between the three of them had eased. They could talk, joke, laugh, drink together without feeling guilty about it later. It felt so good to be back to normal with these two.

"No, actually, I don't." Mor chipred. She wore a two piece green dress with flowers on the shoulders and hips. She noticed Cassian looking and commented, "Elain picked it out. I think I like green." She motioned with her hands for the two males to follow her through the door to the edge of the stairs. She looked over Velaris, and both of them knew the look of pride and place on her face as she watched her city light up in the sunlight.

"She is healing. Thanks to her garden, I think. She smiled when I walked out in it, so no way in hell was I going to take it off." Mor said, then turned to punch Az on the arm.

He faked a hurt face, to which Mor rolled her eyes and said, "I also think it's in part because of you."

Az looked at his feet, but the smile on his face was unmistakable.

Mor smiled herself and looked to Cassian, who was just enjoying being in their company. "What about your Archeron sister? Any progress?"

Cassian blinked. No one had ever referenced Nesta as his before. He doubted she would have liked to hear that.

"She agreed to come. Barely, but she agreed." He said, looking away from Mor toward the slums of the city where she lived.

Mor sighed. "Good. Az, if you could fly me to his estate I can brief Rhys."

Az turned to her, confused. "Why would I fly you all the way over there if I can just go there and brief him myself?"

Mor laughed and started to descend the thousands of stairs as if she was going to step all the way down. She called over her shoulder, "Because Elain asked if you could come help her with her garden." She continued walking.

Az's eyes lit up, a smile spreading cross his face.

"Better get going, shadowswinger." Cassian said and he nudged his brother down the stairs. He watched from the top as Az ran down the stairs and scooped Mor into his arms, launching off his back foot into the air. Cassian kept watching them for a moment, saw Mor bark a laugh at something Az had said. He smiled to himself, turning back into the House of Wind to finish his drawing.

He worked the rest of the day and deep into the night, hoping the smell of rose and rum would linger on his skin just a bit longer.

______________________________________________________

Nesta woke up late.

She usually woke up when the sun streamed through her window and rudely woke her up. This morning, though, the sun was well up and the sounds of the city were in full swing when she pulled her face off the pillow.

She had fallen asleep in her bed, face down, still clutching the drawing in her hand. Remembering, she sat up searched the bed for the drawing. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to burn it or not.

It wasn't on the bed or wrapped in any of the covers. She sighed and slipped her feet out of the blankets. The wood floor was cold under her toes, and she took a moment to breathe deeply before she stood.

Getting on her hands and knees, she looked under her bed. She saw it on the other side of the bed, directly across from her.

Bracing her hands on the side of the bed, she stood once again stood and walked to the other side of her bed. She bent down, picking up the picture.

Nesta held the picture out in front of her, looking at it. Memories, thoughts, feeling pounded like waves against her mind at the image of her and Cassian on the couch. Looking happy. Looking peaceful. The frozen moment in time when Cassian knew. Or so he named the drawing.

She looked at the bottom left corner. His own handwriting.

When I Knew

She didn't have to think about what he meant by that.

What she didn't think about was how she felt about that. About everything between them.

She couldn't let herself do that.

She couldn't do that to Cassian.

Without even thinking, she tore the picture up into four equal pieces, and then those into four small pieces.

Setting those on her bed, she took out her only tote and her small sewing kit.

She took out all of her undergarments from her armoire and stuffed them into the tote first. Then she took out all of her dresses and laid them on the floor.

She only had five of them. A simple dark green, much like the purple one she had fallen asleep in. A deep blue with beading around the plunging neckline with a fuller skirt. Her only 'formal' dress. A dark pink wrap dress, one of her more scandalous dresses.

And then the dress Elain had bought her.

It was simple enough. A white flowing A line gown, with flower detail around the neckline, waist, and hem. It was long sleeved, but the fabric was light enough that no matter how hot it was she knew she would not sweat. It was a beautiful in its simplicity. Pure and light and easy and honest and everything Nesta was not.

She was only going to bring it to take a piece of Elain with her. To take the quiet gentle strength with her.

With all five of her dresses laid before her, Nesta dropped to her knees. She grabbed a needle and thread and scissors, and set to work on the green dress first.

She cut a small square from the underlining of the dress and then unlaced the corset style back, opening the inside of the bodice to her. She sewed in the small square, whip stitching for extra strength. Just before she sewed the small make-shift pocket completely closed, she stood to grab one of the small pieces of paper on her bed.

Nesta looked at it. Only about an inch and a half in diameter, this section of the drawing was Cassians face. Head tilted back, roaring in laughter.

With her long delicate fingers, she folded the paper so it fit in the pocket she created, and sewed it shut.

Working for the rest of the day, Nesta repeated the process with all 5 of her dresses and then packed them into her tote.

She then repeated the process for the five shirts and five pairs of pants she packed.

At some point during this process, she began to cry.

Nesta wasn't sewing Cassian's drawing into all of her clothes as some sentimental way to keep him with her. It wasn't to prove she had a heart or to fool anyone into thinking he and she were anything more then cohorts.

No, Nesta was sewing Cassian's drawing into all of her clothes to remind her she could never have all of him. She could only have bits and pieces at a time, never the whole. Because she had torn him apart, chewed him up, and spit him out. She didn't even know if he was whole anymore, much like herself. Scraps of paper and broken parts.

That's all they were.

And it was her fault.

Nesta sewed Cassian's drawings into all of her clothes to remind her of that.

She finished in the middle of the afternoon. Her tote seemed to weigh a million pounds, but she somehow found it in her to lift it off the bed and set it on the floor. She wiped the sweat off her brow, the tears from her face, and sighing, knew what she needed to do with the rest of her afternoon.

Though the summer was ending, it was nice enough still she did not need a cloak as she left her apartment and started down the street.

________________________________________________________________________________

Feyre was tired.

She knew Rhys was as well, what with having to prepare to face the Illyrian army and her sister.

Gods, her sister.

Nesta had agreed. She hated what her sister had become, what her life was. This would be a good thing for her. Feyre would still miss her though.

Feyre sat in a wooden swing bench on her bedroom balcony. Rhys was resting in the bed behind her. Though it was only the afternoon, her mate was exhausted. They had been attempting to conceive almost every night, and though she enjoyed it, she was equally as exhausted.

Still, Feyre had not become pregnant. It took time, and with her Fae body she didn't know how her cycles effected her fertility. They had talked to a medwitch about it, and all he could say was, keep trying!

So they did.

Feyre sighed, taking in the afternoon light as it hit her face. It was warm, welcoming. Their bedroom balcony faced the city, so Feyre looked out on her home and smiled.

They would have a baby. Feyre would get pregnant. Of that, she was sure.

A sound at the gate stirred her attention. Feyre stood and grabbed the rail, looking over to the entrance to the estate.

Nesta stood there, opening the gate.

Feyre watched from the balcony as Nesta walked toward the mansions double doors.

She turned on her heel, and hissed at her mate sleeping in bed, "Do not wake up anytime soon,".

He snored lightly in response.

She opened the door and dashed down the hallway, hearing the knocker on the door bang bang bang.

Feyre reached the large double doors, took a deep breath, and opened them to see her eldest sister standing there.


	5. Chapter 5- Black With Rot

They sat for tea in the front room. It was warm in the house, the windows open and a light breeze flowing through.

Though the setting was calm and peaceful- the beautiful sitting room decorated with flowers and obviously expensive decor- the mood was tense. Feyre had taken one look at the white flowing dress Nesta wore and had let Nesta in and prepared the tea without a word. And Nesta followed and sat without a word.

Feyre came into the room with a silver tray holding three tea cups and a kettle.

Nesta looked at her sister as she set the trey down on the small but extravagant coffee table before them and rested on the chair across from her.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" Nesta asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"I was hoping you would let Elain join us. She's in the garden now." Feyre let the question hang in the air.

Can I trust you around her?

Nesta looked away from her sister. She was nothing more then a rabid animal in Feyre's eyes. No longer sister. Not in any way that mattered at least.

Nesta was done. She was so sick of being seen that way. She was not an animal. She was not rabid or feral. As she took a deep breath, she felt the small pocket she has sewn into the white dress press against her bosom. It centered her.

No, she was not an animal. But the way to prove that was not to lash out like one caged.

So, Nesta asked Feyre, still looking down, "Can I go get her?"

Feyre went still. Nesta still looked down. But Feyre simply took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know your way to the gardens?"

________________________________________________________________________________

It seemed all the windows in the grand house were open as the entire house smelt like the beautiful flowers she knew Elain grew. Nesta trailed through the house slowly. Every picture on the wall, every vase with tulips and baby breath, every stoke of carefully picked paint made Nesta crack a little more.

It was so homely. So comfortable. She would never- could never have anything like that. Feyre had no idea how hard it truly was to have everything you knew- your entire world- ripped away from underneath you. She couldn't understand that because when she was changed, when she was made Fae, she had someone to love her. She had a beautiful home to go to. Feyre had never lost. Not like she and Elain had.

When they were made Fae, there were no mates waiting to welcome them. No one to teach them how to simply exist in these new bodies. They lost their lives in their village, Elain had lost whom to her was the love of her life. And then Feyre had ran off to play spy, leaving the two of them with males they barely knew and did not trust in a completely foreign place.

Nesta knew she hadn't been perfect. But she knew she did the best she could with the shitty hand she was dealt. She did her best to protect Elain and keep out of everyones way. What more could she have done? How else could she have made life for Elain easier when everything was so complicated?

The only other question Nesta kept asking herself over and over was, what could she have done differently to have the luck Feyre had?

Rich beyond measure, sickeningly in love with the most powerful male in the realm, adored by her people, a historical figure in Pyrantian's history by anyone's standard.

Nesta was not even close to any of that. But she had tried to be the best sister she could be to Elain. Didn't that count for anything?

Just before the two open glass doors that let outside to the garden, welcoming in a cool breeze, there was a painting on the wall. It was of Feyre and Elain sitting in the garden. In the bottom left corner, it had Feyre's swooping handwriting, marking her as the artist. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a marble bench, surrounded by a large rosebush.

The padding of bare feet behind her made Nesta turn.

Elain was flushed from the afternoon sun, her light pink frock almost as dirty as her gardening gloves. Her hair was up in a simple top knot, lose strands falling and framing her face.

That beautiful face was the only one that shaped a genuine smile when she saw Nesta.

That smile wrapped around Nesta's heart as she closed the distance and gathered her younger sister in her arms. Elain didn't hesitate to bury her head in Nesta's shoulder and hold her back.

Nesta kissed the top of her sisters head. "I'm really happy to see you."

Elain pulled back and placed her hands on either side of Nesta's face. "You're to small for your own good, Nesta. I made some bread this morning, shall I cut some for us?"

Elain linked her arm through Nesta's, turning her around and leading her back through the house. But Nesta felt a darkness behind them.

She turned quickly, looking for anything or anyone. The other winged male, Azriel, stood in the doorway of the garden. His arms were folded over his chest, eyeing her as she still linked her arm through Elain's.

Her sister stepped forward, toward the winged male. She huffed a laugh and he unfolded his arms and walked toward the pair.

Though Elain was right in front of him, his eyes locked on Nesta. Assessing. Asserting.

Elain put a light hand on his chest. "Don't be dramatic, Az." She took off her gloves and handed them to 'Az'. He turned his eyes to Elain, the sharpness in them fading into something sweet and soft.

He took the gloves as she said, "Can you run these to the laundry room for me?"

Azriel nodded at her, glared at Nesta, and left.

While Nesta was so happy that Elain had found someone, had found a home here with Feyre, some sick part of her wished Elain was struggling like she was. So that maybe Nesta could have someone, anyone, who truly understood what she was going through. But the way Elain watched the brooding male walk away told Nesta everything she needed to know. Now that Elain had found her person, there was no way she would ever truly understand what Nesta was going through.

Elain turned back to Nesta. "He's really a softie, you know." She smiled that life changing smile, and linking her arm back through Nesta's, she said, "But don't tell him I said that."

Nesta smirked. "I wasn't going to."

"Good," Elain said.

They continued walking down the hall toward the front room. Nestas gaze lingered a little too long on the portrait of Feyre and Elain. Her younger sister noticed.

As they continue to walk Elain remarked, "Feyre painted that. The rosebush is you. It's very symbolic."

Nesta stilled. And walked back several feet to look at the painting again. "It just looks like a normal rosebush." Nesta said more to herself then to Elain, "I didn't think she painted me in her house at all."

Elaine countered coming up next to Nesta to look at the painting "Oh. she doesn't. At least not intentionally."

Nesta turned to her sister. "What does that mean?"

"You're all over this house Nesta, you just have to know where to look. Feyre is just as bitter as you are about what you're doing with your life." Elaine hooked her arm through her sisters once more and they continued walking. "And because she's bitter she convinces herself that she's not painting you. But she is."

And Nesta didn't know how to feel about that.

They were silent until they got to the front room where Feyre waited on the arm chair. She stood when she saw Elain come into the room, and Elain and Feyre shared a quick embrace. Feyre said to Elain, "How is the garden this morning?"

Elaine smiled and brushed some dirt off of her knees. "Things are beginning to wind down with the approaching winter. But my perennials will just not give up!" Feyre laughed at this, and Nesta supposed it was an inside joke she would never be a part of.

Elaine sighed as she tucked her feet underneath herself and curled on the couch grabbing her tea from the table. Blowing on it she said "Anyway, Az helped me get everything ready for the upcoming cold weather and tomorrow we will be trimming the trees and the bushes."

Feyre set her tea on the table and added a spoonful of sugar to it, mixing it with her spoon she looked at Nesta.

Feyre said nothing. Just looked at Nesta. Looked through her.

So Nesta said to her sisters, "By now you've heard I'm going to the camps with Cassian." Her sisters both nodded.

Nesta took a deep breath. She hadn't touched her tea.

"I've never been a good person. I've never claimed to be. I've never claimed to be a good freind. I've never claimed to be a good sister, and I haven't been."

Elaine raised her eyebrows, but Feyres face remained cold.

Nesta continued, even though her guts whirred and her head spun. She had to bring a hand to her forehead, feeling her skin clammy and cold.

"I hate this. I don't know –"

Nesta stood up and went to the window. She couldn't do this. How could she apologize for lifetimes worth of neglect? How could she say goodbye to her sisters, the two she love the most in this world, when they didn't even know if she wanted to be part of the family or not? She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to say it. So she was just honest.

"I can't apologize for what I've done to both of you, because I don't know how. I can't verbalize something that I don't understand. I've been bitter, and disgusting, and cold, because I didn't have any other emotions. I still don't."

Nesta fought the stinging in her eyes and put her head in her hands by the window. She was going to hurl. She had to finish this conversation. She couldn't look at her sisters.

"You two have a life. A good life. And all I've ever done when you found happiness is ruin it. I am so proud of both of you for finding that after..." she breathed, "...everything. Because I sure as Hel can't find it. And I don't wanna ruin this for the two of you just because I can't. So I can't come to dinners and I can't celebrate holidays with you. I don't visit and I don't communicate because when I do I only ruin it. I hurt people."

For once that darkness inside her-that thing-that always lingered just under her skin was silent. For once Nestas head was completely and totally silent.

"So I'm going to the camps." Her voice cracked as she hid a single tear behind her hands.

"And I am going to stay there. I'm not coming back."

She took a deep breath, and finished her goodbye to the sisters she had always loved with every fracture of her heart.

"I am mournful for the time we lost together and for the childhood we never had. I am never going to stop being sorry for what I've done."

She took her hands from her face and braced them on the windowsill. She took a deep breath. Then, she turned and faced her sisters. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I have nothing else to offer but that."

Feyre wasn't looking at Nesta, but at the floor. Elain however was staring at Nesta with eyes full of tears. Her cheeks were stained. She had spilled some of her tea in her lap.

No one said anything.

Slowly, so slowly, Elaine stood up and walked over to Nesta.

Though her cheeks were stained and there was still tears coming out of her eyes, her eyes were empty. Void of any feeling or intention.

Elain was only inches from Nesta as she raised her hands to cup either side of Nestas face.

Elaine breathed, "Darkness..."

Elaine's hands begin to shake on either side of Nestas face. It was not Elaine's voice. No, Elain was somewhere far away.

Feyre seemed to know what this indicated and looked over at Elain knowingly. She rushed over to where the two sister stood.

Nesta turned her head to her sister and whispered to Feyre, "Is she OK?"

Feyre whispered putting a hand on Elain's shoulder,"She's a seer. She's having a vision." Feyre's voice caught on the last words. Nesta understood from that that this did not happen often.

Nesta gaped at her younger sister. Feyre seemed unfazed by the previous remarks of Nesta, only completely concerned about Elaine and her safety.

Nesta felt the same.

Elain turned Nesta's face so that she was looking at her. Painfully quietly, Elain stroked a hand from Nestas's forehead to her chin.

Repeating this action on both sides of Nesta's face, she said painfully quietly, "Decay ..." and then Elain gasped as if she were in pain.

"Elain?!" Nesta grabbed her younger sisters elbows as Elain's body went limp.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she passed out in Nesta's arms.

Nesta lowered her to the floor while yelling at Feyre, "Call a healer!"

Feyre didn't move as she just stared- eyes wide and scared- at Nesta's feet.

Nesta furrowed her brow in confusion and looked down to where Feyre's eyes were locked.

Where the wood floor was rotting out from underneath Nesta's feet.

Nesta shot up, gasping in horror.

Feyre moved to catch Elain on the ground.

Nesta backed away, still staring at the ground. She felt her back press against the window sill, and she snapped around to look at where her hands had been merely moments earlier.

The entire base of the window was black with rot.

She stepped back, away from the decaying window and looked down-where her foot stepped was now blackening the floor.

Nesta looked at Feyre holding her sister on the floor. Her sisters looked terrified.

Nesta took one look at her sisters face and ran out of the house. She didn't look back to see if the floor beneath her was rotting where she stepped. She didn't need to. She could feel the wood soften and give way beneath her feet. She kept running.

She could feel it building up bubbling to the surface refusing to be ignored.

That silence that she had felt momentarily in the manor had been a lie.

It was a wave, receding fully only to come crashing down twice as hard.

Nesta ran and ran and ran. She was faintly aware of her sister calling out to her from inside the house and footsteps behind her in pursuit. But still, she kept running.

It was hot cold sharp raw

It was rejuvenation and murder all at once. It ripped her inside, it clawed at her mind and body and soul as that thing inside her tore its way to the surface.

Nesta screamed as she ran. As her lungs and body burned.

It was everything and nothing. It was inside of her, it was all around her, it was her.

She had to get away from the city. She had to get away from her family. Away from her sisters. She was going to melt away - she was going to fade into nothingness. She was going to burst.

She was going to become air in the sky and sea and water.

Water.

She had to get to the Sidra.

If she could get underwater before her magic broke the surface, she could minimize the damage.

Nesta turned down the road she knew would take her to where she needed to go, running as hard as she could.

Harder then she had ever ran in her life, Nesta made it to the walkway overlooking the Sidra. It was rocky and rough and the waves were relentless.

It was now overcast, and the water was angry. Nesta didn't care as she grabbed the railing and took one foot over than the other.

And turned herself around so that there was no barrier between her and that water.

Water.

black angry loud quiet lustful dexterous water waiting seeking searching

– she had to jump she had no choice. She had to jump. She took a deep breath.

"Nesta, stop!"

A voice shrieked at her from the other side of the railing.

Not a voice, but Cassian.

She didn't know how he got here so fast. She didn't care she looked over her shoulder to see him nearly 30 feet away pumping his arms as hard as he could toward her.

He looked horrified.

Everyone looked at her like that.

She looked at where her hands gripped the railing only to find that the metal railing was starting to rust and fall apart under her grip. She looked at the rocks beneath her feet seeing them starting to crumble and erode underneath her.

She looked back to where Cassian was still sprinting toward her and saw her own trail of foot prints leading up to where she was now rotted into the ground.

YOU HAVE TO JUMP.

Cassian was roaring using his wings to help him go faster. She could smell the salt on his face.

But Nesta turned toward the sea and jumped.

She was vaguely aware of the feeling of a hand grabbing the collar of her dress but losing its' grip.

She hit the water seconds later. Hard.

Nesta plunged down

down

down

down

And suddenly she was back in the throne room back with that king. Back with those creatures who had kidnapped her and her sister and burned their home to the ground. She was being submerged, she was being taken, she was being obliterated, the memories flooded her senses and she couldn't stop her self- her mind – from drowning in that memory.

As her magic thrust out of her and into the endless sea, Nesta raised one finger to the King of Hybern, and let the memory consume her.


	6. Chapter 6- SPITFIRE

WARNING:

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD, VIOLENCE, AND SEXUAL ASSAULT.

I WILL INCLUDE WARNINGS BEFORE THE EXPLICIT CONTENT BEGINS AND AFTER IT ENDS.

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Blood.

She had to much blood under her nails. On her skin. On the floor.

Still, she bit and scratched and clawed and hit the guards that held her.

Closer and closer to the Cauldron, they dragged her kicking and screaming.

Elain had already been Made. Was in a pool of the black thick liquid on the floor.

Cassian was answering her screams with moans behind her. Trying to reach her.

He had broken his promise.

Come, spitfire.

The black water rose to the brim of the Cauldron. Waiting. Beckoning.

She thrashed harder. Her foot made contact with one of the guards, she didn't know where, but she heard a crack. Still they kept an iron grip on her arms as the came closer and closer.

Her throat was burning. She tasted blood on her tongue.

I've been waiting for one like you.

She kicked her foot out against the Cauldron and pushed back, trying to propel herself away. She felt the edge of the metal slice through the bottom of her foot. She cried out.

One of the guards grabbed her legs and shoved her feet into the water.

You taste wicked, spitfire.

She screamed louder. She tried to find footing in the black water to kick out, but it felt like there was only open air beneath her. A free fall.

She braced her hands on the edge. The guards ripped them off and tried to shove her under by the shoulders.

She couldn't stop it.

She knew she would be going under.

So she wretched one of her arms free. And pointed on finger at the King. At this child who sat on a throne of sticks and stones before her.

At the one who had burned their home. Killed their staff- those who had become her family.

The one who had dragged Feyre and Rhysand here, only to use herself and Elain to exploit their weakness. As if they were no more then bargaining chips.

The one who had nearly killed her mate. She could still hear him, gasping and moaning on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

At the one who had hurt Elain beyond words.

Yes. She pointed that finger. Marked her target for all to see.

And she imagined what it would feel like, how satisfying it would be, to dig a knife into his throat and watch the life slowly drain out of his eyes.

She would drink his blood.

She would bathe in it.

She would carve out his skull to use as a wineglass.

She would not just kill him.

She would eviscerate him.

Such anger, spitfire.

She let the voice envelop her. She let it lead her, let it scorch through her.

And she knew by looking in his eyes that the king was afraid. Of her.

She almost smiled as she was finally pushed fully under the black, thick water.

___________________________________

CONTENT WARNING: VIOLENCE

I am weightless.

It's as if the gravity has been turned off. This void is endless.

I am falling in slow motion. My hair is floating around me as if I were underwater, but I am falling

down,

down,

down,

down,

down,

down

I do not see any light. There is only darkness.

And I am alone.

AS YOU ALWAYS WILL BE, SPITFIRE.

I turn my body in the air, trying to locate the voice. I do not find anything.

There is no bottom. There is no top.

Am I real? What am I but flesh and blood?

Weak. So easily torn or broken.

I CAN HELP YOU.

I feel a hand close around my ankle.

I look down and realize I cannot see my body.

Another hand is grasping at my wrist.

I struggle, but it is as if I do not control my body. Not in this realm.

It is black.

Two more hands wrap around my other ankle and wrist.

They all begin to pull.

In different directions.

I am being ripped apart.

I feel my skin tearing, my muscle giving way, my blood leaking around the shards of bone.

I think I am screaming.

I split down the middle.

The hands pull out my veins like thread out of fabric.

The hands peel my skin from my muscles, they skin me like a dead animal.

The hands fillet my muscle tissue, making their way to my bones.

I can feel all of it. Every pull of the thread from under my skin. When the flesh tears from my skin, when the muscles are torn.

The hands are dissecting me. Layer by layer.

I can feel all of it.

All of my parts and pieces are separated. They even took the care to pull every hair from my head. Nothing is connected.

SHOW ME, SPITFIRE. SHOW ME YOUR RAGE.

And all I can do is allow myself to be completely sucked down

down

down

down

down

CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT AND VIOLENCE

____________________________________________________________

I fell to my knees, my hands reaching out to stop myself from losing momentum. I quickly got my feet back under me and continued running.

My jaw stung and ached from where he had punched me. The knee he had kicked backwards raged under the pressure of running on it. My forearms already pained with the bruises his hands formed.

He had never been told no.

"I will always get what I want, whore."

I kept running.

Ahead, I saw a shed. I could hear his footsteps gaining. I sprinted for the shed.

It was raining.

I only knew it was raining because my shoe slipped in the mud as I was running.

Finally making it through the door, I slammed it shut behind me.

I leaned back against the door, and cupped a hand over my mouth to silence my sobs and breathing.

I could hear his footsteps slow outside, now in the same clearing the shed I was in.

He was going to find me. My chance was now.

I took a few deep breaths, then turned and opened the door, and ran.

We were deep in the forest.

There was nowhere to run anyway.

When I had sprinted out of his home, I hadn't considered that.

I didn't have time to consider it as I felt his arms writhe around my waist, and using my momentum against me, threw the both of us to the ground.

I was on my back, with him straddling me. I thrashed and screamed, trying to kick or claw or buck- anything to get him off of me.

He had injured me enough earlier, I was weak enough, that all of it was inefficient.

His nails dug into my wrists as he grabbed them with one hand and pinned my arms above my head.

I kept screaming.

I knew no one would hear.

I spit up at him.

"You bitch" He bellowed, using his free hand to slap me across the face.

I still screamed.

He dug his hand into the mud beneath me, taking a handful, and shoving it into my mouth.

"If you scream, I will fucking kill you."

I gagged and heard the mud slosh in my mouth and throat. Tears sprung to my eyes as I tried to breath around the mud.

His eyes glowed as he dug his nails further into my wrists. I felt the skin snap as he drew blood and still dug deeper.

He lowered his head to my neck and bit down as he moved my legs around his waist.

I squirmed, trying to find any way to get him off balance, to try to kick him, to get him off me, but he only dug his hips down onto mine and gripped my thigh with his free hands keeping me pinned under him.

His mouth, tongue, teeth roamed my neck and shoulders as I cried. I was still struggling to breath through the mud in my mouth.

When he started raking his hips painfully against me through the layers of clothing, that's when I started praying.

For anyone, anything, anywhere to help me.

He used his free hand to rip the top of my dress down and he held my trembling body down as he pawed at me as if he could burn a hole through my skin.

For anyone, anything anywhere to get him off me.

I wasn't in my own body. I wasn't in the rain trapped beneath a boy who can't take no. I was seeing the scene from the outside.

FOR ANYONE ANYTHING ANYWHERE TO MAKE IT STOP

I saw his form trail lower and lower.

MAKE IT STOP

And it did.

Time literally froze.

I was still watching the scene. I was still outside my body.

Because this wasn't really happening. Not now anyway. No, this wasn't real.

__________________________

Because I am floating on air. I am Spitfire. This is not real. Only a replay of a memory.

I watch as the rain drops start to fall in slow motion and the two bodies before me aren't in the mud or in the forest. They are floating in this vast void I find my consciousness in. The hands continue to work on dissecting me. Thomas is still on top of my body, blood and mud drip from my mouth and mix with tears on my cheeks.

The scene before makes me want to vomit. Yet, I still have no body. No being.

This is the night I died.

The night the world ended.

This night, I told myself that if I ever saw Thomas again, I was going to kill him.

And here I am, seeing him again.

My mind clears.

Here, anything is possible.

I am everything and nothing. Time itself stopped because I willed it to.

My will is unbreakable.

My strength is unshakable.

The hands pulling me apart disappear, because I say so.

I pull the void around me, taking taking taking.

It isn't enough. Anything I take from this place will never be enough to atone for the wrongness of this place, to the sins it has committed.

My body pieces together around me. Pieces of that darkness are sucked in, permanently attaching themselves to my soul, my very essence.

DO NOT TAKE WHAT IS NOT YOURS.

I don't listen.

I only stare at the back of Thomas's neck as I pull and take and relish in the darkness now within me.

Oh, it burns. Burns like acid beneath my muscles, within my blood, coursing through my whole body.

But I don't care. I will take.

This darkness, this Void, this Cauldron that will 'Make' me will never recover from my presence.

I will take.

My body is being reformed.

I will take.

DO NOT, SPITFIRE.

I will take.

Thomas's neck is so human. So weak. I am so much more then that now.

I am pain. I am destruction. I am darkness. I am decay. I am all things passed on.

I am death.

YOU ARE A THEIF.

I am death.

For my sisters, for my mate, for this new world.

I feel my flesh shriveling and flaking off my body, but it does not matter.

The hands grab at me, but only pull off chunks of decaying skin and muscle.

I do not need any kind of fragile vessel. Cauldron can have it.

A knife appeared, because I say so.

I slip through the space and wrap my hands around Thomas's neck. Taking the knife, I drag one long smooth stroke across his simple mortal skin.

I watch as the blood drips upwards, around the back of his head, as if the gravity were reversed.

My body dissipates from underneath him, because I say so.

GIVE BACK WHAT YOU HAVE STOLEN, SPITFIRE.

Thomas's blood is a sweet coppery tang on my tongue as I lean forward and drink it up from the air.

I am death.

And because I, Spitfire, say so, I take everything the Cauldron has. I take it all and form my body from the very fabric of existence.

I am taking very same power that formed the universe and bending it to my will.

I begin to exist, because I say so.

My new body is angular sharp sensitive. Radiating power. The likes of which I know have not been felt in the realm.

I will use this to end you. To destroy you, I will become you. Everything you are.

GIVE. IT. BACK.

Give me back my sister.

YOU KNOW I CANNOT DO THAT, SPITFIRE.

Then I am never giving it back.

I WILL FOLLOW YOU. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE BURDENED BY THIS DARKNESS.

I hope so.

And I feel the world tilt and spin and drain.

And suddenly-

_______________________________________________________________________________

Nesta spilled out onto the floor of the throne room. She was soaking wet, freezing. She did not care as she gathered her breath and slowly stood.

She felt it.

A strength and power that rivaled that of those in the room.

And a dark, old, ancient thing prowling at her feet.

Nesta had no control, no idea how to reign it in as it radiated throughout the throne room, and everyone went silent at the call of Death.

In that moment, standing facing everyone in the room, beholding the horror on their faces at her power, she knew they would all always think of her as a monster.

And this is the memory that Nesta relived as she sunk to the bottom of the Sidra, surrounded by raw white hot power.


	7. Chapter 7- Hold On, Sweetheart

Cassian didn't think twice before he jumped the railing and dived under after her.

He didn't think about what happened in the estate. How he had seen everything her magic had left behind. The rot. The dead plants in her wake. He just dove.

Before he could hit the water though, a white hot ball of power burst from the surface of the water.

Nesta.

She couldn't control her power. She knew she had to go somewhere safe.

Nesta was brilliant.

His wings caught him merely seconds before that white hot power sucked the air from where he was. The power pulled inward, and the waves obeyed. It was like a black hole, dragging in anything within a certain proximity.

Cassian tried to fly up to see just how large that proximity was, but he couldn't get out of the pull of Nesta's power. Not only was it physical pulling him toward the water, it was intoxicating to be this close.

Her power was in the air all around him, singing to him, dancing with him. He didn't think he could resist getting closer even if he weren't caught in the pull.

So he folded his wings in fully, took a deep breath, and dived into the water.

And just before he broke the surface of the water, just before he could touch that hypnotizing white magic, it turned the darkest shade of black beneath the waves and exploded outwards.

That magic was dark, Void. It wasn't natural.

Cassian was thrown from the water, slammed against the rocks by the blast. He shouted in pain as he felt the sensitive wings on his back tear against the jagged edges of the rocks. It knocked the wind out of him, he felt a crack as two of his ribs broke from the impact.

Then he fell ten feet down onto the sand.

Which was odd, as there was no beach here, just water.

Nesta's blast had blown all the water out of this part of the Sidra.

Cassian lifted his head, groaning as he tried to survey the area. He had to find Nesta before the water returned. Much of the water had been blown upwards, and started to fall back down as if it were raining.

He slowly got to his feet, feeling the sand slosh underneath his boots.

Nesta was about ten feet from him, laying on her back. There was some sort of aura surrounding her, but it was fading to quickly for Cassian to tell what it was.

He could already feel his broken skin and bones mending as he stumbled toward her.

She was breathing, but he didn't know if she was conscious, and they had to get away before the waves came and water returned to bury them.

He knelt beside her.

Her eyes were open and she was breathing heavily through her mouth She didn't appear to be injured at all, though she was whispering something over and over that Cassian couldn't quite understand.

He pushed a strand of hair from her face as he grasped her hand and whispered back to her, "I can't understand you, sweetheart."

She tore her eyes from their unblinking stare at the sky and held Cassian's gaze.

He could have sworn for just a moment, her eyes were completely white.

Nesta stopped whispering, seeming to only realize where she was, what was happening.

"C..Cassian?" She furrowed her brows. She sat up and flitted his hand away, ever the independent female. As Cassian stood with her, a sharp pain made him hiss and drop to his knees.

He pressed a hand to his side to find blood leaking through his leathers. Nesta's eyes went wide for only a second, before lifting Cassian's arm and tucking herself underneath it, making herself a crutch for him. 

"Don't call me sweetheart." She huffed as she struggled to bear the weight. Together, the hobbled to the rocky edge of the water. The rain was falling harder now, the drops becoming more frequent and thicker.

Cassian lifted his arm from around her, placing a hand on the rocks as if he were going to climb.

Nesta would have laughed if she was in the spirits to.

"You can't make it up that way. We have to get to the beach." She said, slipping back under his arm. He only nodded as he grimaced.

They moved slowly, Cassian leaning heavily on Nesta. Around the bend in the rocks, the sand of a small beach- it could even be called that- showed itself.

"There." Nesta said through her teeth.

Cassian only nodded.

Nesta shifted under him, glancing back momentarily.

"Shit..." she swore under her breath.

Only then did he notice it had stopped raining.

Cassian barely turned around in time for the massive wave to crash into them.

The air was immediately knocked out of his lungs.

Nesta.

She had been ripped from his arms as the water had rushed around them.

Nesta.

Where was she?

He tried to orient himself in the water, letting the buoyancy of his own body tell him which direction the surface was.

Cassian's head broke the surface, and he gulped down air greedily. The Sidra was a chorus of waves and anger as it started to rain again, a thunderstorm covering Velaris. He thrashed in the water, trying to turn around and see all of his surroundings, if he could see her anywhere.

He couldn't

"NESTA!" He roared in to the sweeping sea, into the wind and the rain.

And a vast nothingness answered him.

All at once, all of his senses snapped to one place. Within him. Within both of them.

The bond.

It was so tight. So strained.

Panic, raw painful panic seized his throat as he screamed her name over and over.

"Cassian?"

He turned toward the voice, not coming from the water or the beach, but from the railing above him.

Feyre, Az, and Rhys all were braced against the railing, holding on against the storm.

Rhys had called to him, already stepping over the railing ready to jump in and help.

"She's drowning. She's drowning!" He hoped Rhys could hear him over the storm.

Feyre and Az also started climbing over the railing as Rhys jumped into the water. Cassian tried to pull pull pull on the lifeline that tied him to Nesta, trying to find her.

And as his family reached him he felt the other end of it.

Deep below the surface.

Cassian didn't even think about his two brothers and his High Lady as he dove under the surface. His whole being was screaming at him-

TOO LONG SHES BEEN UNDER TOO LONG

And still he dove deeper. 

His lungs screamed and his vision blurred, but still he swam deeper.

A hand grabbed his shoulders and pulled up. He fluttered his wings, shaking the hand off. Then two hands. Then three, until he was being pulled up to the surface. He screamed underwater, reaching his arm down to where he felt the other end of that thread.

TOO LONG SHES BEEN UNDER T-

His head broke the surface.

"What the fuck are you thinking, Cassian?" Az had been the first hand to try to drag him up. Cassian didn't care. Not as Nesta was still at the bottom of the Sidra.

"I have to get her out!" He pushed his brother off of him, sending Az soaring through the water.

And Cassian dove back down.

He used his injured wings to propel himself through the water. He could feel the current around him stir and as he swam he saw Feyre next to him. She nodded at him.

I am with you in this. We will get her out.

He could only nod back to her and continue following that thread.

So tight, so tense, so delicate, he followed that thread.

Until the water was so black that he had to use only that thread to track her. Feyre put a hand on his shoulder as not to lose him in the dark water.

His hand hit sand at the bottom of the Sidra.

She was close.

Hold on, sweetheart.

He let his hands lead him, feeling along the bottom until his hand was suddenly wrapped in the fabric of a dress. He took Feyre's hand off his shoulder and placed it onto Nesta so she knew he had found her.

Hold on.

That bond was so fragile. In wrinkles and breaking as he held her body tight to his own and kicked off the bottom of the Sidra with Feyre right beside him.

Cassian broke the surface and started to beat his wings, attempting to get out of the water.

Rhys scooped up Feyre and flew her out of the water while Az grabbed under Cassians arms to help him fly. They all landed on the beach, tumbling to the ground form the exhaustion of trying to fight the sea.

Cassian's mind was so horribly quiet. Clear. As the others lay on their backs trying to catch their breath, Cassian sat up and rolled Nesta over.

Her skin was nearly blue. Her hair was stringy and clumped. Her chest was not rising. It was such a terribly familiar scene as he started to pump her chest.

She was cold under his hand. He made a promise, and thrice now he had failed her.

He had failed her.

Come back to me.

He begged through that tattered thread as he pinched her curved nose and brought his mouth to hers, preparing to breathe into her lungs. He would give her all the air in his body. All the blood in his veins. He would give her anything if she opened her eyes.

The thread- the bond- suddenly was a white hot fire in his soul.

He had to physical clutch his stomach to bear the pain of that fire tearing through his very being. Cassian fell on his back, and just as Nesta did the same, arched upwards letting out a scream.

"move, movE MOVE MOVE!" He heard Nesta shout from beside him, and the primal being within him obeyed. He saw Feyre, Rhys, and Az doing the same, backing up all the way to the rocks surrounding them.

Nesta turned away from them, on her hands and knees, and threw her arms toward the water.

Just as a beam of that dark Void magic shot out of her.

The sand under her body turned green and slimy. Where her white dress touched the sand it was brown and discolored, disintegrating with the harsh wind. Nesta could feel this second burst coming. That's why she had stayed at the bottom.

Cassian should have known she was capable of surfacing, should have felt that buildup of power in the bond.

Nesta dropped one hand back into the sand to support her body as the remaining hand drained what was left of that darkness out into the Sidra. When the Void finally stopped radiating out of her palm, she brought her hand back down.

She sat back on her heels and breathed.

Cassian left the rock wall, despite the other's whispered protests.

"We don't know how dangerous she is, Cassian"

"She may not be done yet, it isn't safe to go near her."

"Cassian I am commanding you get your sorry ass back here, now."

He did not listen.

Not as Nesta, still facing the Sidra, raised a hand behind her.

He braced himself.

But nothing came.

No, Nesta was not going to fire her power at him. She was holding her hand out for him to take. And so he did.

He grabbed her hand, kneeling on the sand next to her. It squished under him, the slimy sensation doing nothing to tear his vision from Nesta.

She was whispering to herself, "you are here...you are here...you are here..." Taking a deep breath in before and exhaling after. Controlled breathing. Centering herself.

Her stringy wet hair fell around her, but through it Cassian could see her eyes wide open, locked onto the water lapping at her knees. He used his free hand to brush her hair behind her ear and let his hand continue to her back, stroking up and down to comfort her.

He brought her hand- gripping his so hard it almost hurt- up to his face. He opened her clutched fist and laid it against his cheek. He absently kissed the inside of her palm as he whispered back,

"I am here... I am here... I am here..."

Cassian breathed in time with Nesta, syncing his heartbeat to hers. The bond pulsed in response.

And there they sat.

Feyre came behind Cassian, putting a light hand on his back. He couldn't bring himself- did want to- look away from Nesta to Feyre, but he nodded to let her know he was listening.

Feyre took a deep breath. "There is a healer waiting at the estate for both of you. When she's ready, both of you come on back." She looked away from Cassian and stared at her sister.

"We'll decide how we want to go forward then."

She looked back at Cassian.

"Don't be out here too long. You'll both get sick."

Cassian only nodded and continued breathing with Nesta.

Feyre stood and Cassian felt the three of them fly off the beach.

Cassian watched as Nesta pushed her eyelids together, squeezing her eyes shut.

She retched into the water. Cassian only rubbed her back as she let it out, let it sweep away into the angry sea. He didn't notice the stinging in his nose as he picked up the scent of sea water and bile.

It was several moments before she was done. She took her hand out of Cassian's, and the absence of her warmth on his cheek made his head spin.

Nesta gathered water into her hands and splashed it onto her face several times. She leaned down toward the water and took a long sip, sloshing it around in her mouth before spitting it back into the waves. Twice. Three times.

Cassian kept rubbing her back. He could feel the her shoulder blades expand and contract as she took a few more deep breaths. He couldn't look away from her.

Not as she finally- finally- looked up at him. When their eyes met, the bond sang.

He realized that while Nesta was even afraid to admit it's existence, he had been afraid to call it what it was. It wasn't fair of him to be angry with her for being afraid of it. He was too.

But in that moment, looking into her eyes, seeing the tears spill freely, seeing a face of hers he knew no one else had seen, all of his doubts and fears left him.

Nesta Archeron was his mate.

His love, his world, the air he breathed, the reason he had been born 500 years ago. His heaven and his stars and his sun and his light.

And because of that, he wouldn't be mad. He wouldn't blame her for being afraid of it. For fearing the implications or for shying away from the truth. It still scared the shit out of him, too. But that truth, the truth of them and what they would become, had been carved onto his heart the moment he had laid eyes on her a year ago.

When she had been Made, when she became high Fae, the words were carved into his soul. It was so much more intense. He thought he was suffocating when she was mortal, but the second she had come out of the Cauldron, radiating darkness and sheer power, he had been dumbstruck.

He knew she was scared. He was too. But something in his head told him that was the fun part.


	8. Chapter 8- Consume Him

He was just staring at her.

And damn herself, she could only stare back.

Nesta's stomach and abdomen ached. Her whole body was screaming. She just hoped she didn't do any damage. She could only hope she made it to the water in time.

Cassian's eyes were a hundred different shades of brown and gold. She was hypnotized in his presence. Every brick of every wall she put up and carefully crafted to keep everyone- to keep him-out had vanished.

All she wanted was to lay herself- her truth, her story, her life, her body- bare to him.

She felt it, so strong, so real, so raw inside of her.

She remembered what it had felt like to admit to herself what he was to her.

Mate.

She hated the word. Possessive and animalistic and primal.

And yet, the very structure of her body bellowed the word as she kneeled next to him on that beach.

Judging by the power surging through the bond, he was thinking the same.

She steadied her breathing, and whispered, "You're here."

His hands, warm and rough against her wet skin, cupped her face. He rested his forehead against hers. Brow to brow, they breathed in each other's presence. They didn't need oxygen if they had each other.

She hardly felt the rain continue to beat down and barely heard the thunder pound as his fingers brushed her cheeks.

Cassian tilted his head up and kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, "I'm here."

And then Nesta did something she would only ever do for Cassian.

Nesta wrapped her arms around his neck, moving so she was sitting on his lap straddling him. Cassian responded immediately, snaking his arms around her waist and burying his head into her neck and shoulder. She tangled her fingers into his hair. He squeezed tighter, like he was scared she would going to slip away if he didn't hold her tightly enough.

He smelt of salt. Deeper, he smelt of candles and red wine.

Intoxicating.

Nesta let out a sigh, letting her body sink down onto his further.

Cassian breathed her in just as he had breathed him in. Until their breath was synced.

"Thank you." She said, feeling his head rumble with the echo of her voice in her chest.

Cassian pulled his head off her shoulder, and looked up to her, rain falling down his face.

Nesta's breath nearly caught in her throat.

The bond was an orchestra.

He looked at her like she wasn't a monster. After everything he had just seen, after he witnessed her power, her horror, the thing beneath her skin...

Cassian still looked at her like she was beautiful. He was the only person who ever looked at her like that.

MATE.

Yes, he was.

Nesta hooked her hand behind Cassians head and tilted it upward. He would let her lead this. Let her decide how much she wanted to give, how much she wanted to take.

Nesta knew that because she knew he had already decided to give her everything.

Still, the rain came down around them.

She laid her palm on his cheek, running a thumb over his lips.

"Nesta..." Cassian breathed.

She smiled. Tilting his head, she met his lips with her own.

YES

Every atom in her sang at that kiss. At how perfectly his lips slanted against hers.

They had been made for her.

Gentle, he was being so gentle with her. His lips were soft and salty. His stubble scraped against her face. One of his hands was around her waist, the other now holding her neck, keeping her close. She let her hand press hard against his cheek. The hand that was tangled in his hair slipped down around his shoulders, deepening the kiss and bringing their bodies closer.

He tasted like a warm summer night.

Not needing anything, not desperate. A kiss of gratitude, of acknowledgment, of honesty.

Nesta pulled back first, breaking the kiss. She opened her eyes to see Cassian hadn't bothered to open his, still in the trance of the kiss.

She longed to let herself plunge back into that trance, longed to let his lips roam her neck, lower. Her body raged against her, every fiber inside of her telling her to kiss him again, to let him take her right on this beach. Nesta would be lying if she said she wasn't seriously considering it.

CONSUME HIM

Cassians eyes flew open.

Nesta had no idea where that voice had come from.

That bond was always open, always a two way street. So she knew he had heard it, too.

But Nesta said, "You need to see a healer." Still, she made no move to stand. Thick, hard drops of rain hit her skin.

Cassian replied, "Will you stay with me?" He removed his hand from her back to cup the hand she had on his cheek.

He moved her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, letting his lips linger.

Cassian looked up at her from under his eyelashes. "We Illyrian babies don't handle pain well." Cassian kissed her palm again.

Nesta couldn't help herself as she gripped his jaw with her thumb and forefinger, turning his face upward as she rose to her knees. His hands went immediately to her waist, squeezing ever so slightly.

He had to know when they did bed one another, she would be dominant. Every drunk fool she had taken to her apartment wasn't prepared for what she became under the sheets.

TAKE

"If you don't like pain," she purred down at him, even as his eyes went wild at hearing that voice, "then I hope you aren't prepared to finish what you started here, sweetheart."

Cassian rolled his eyes as his hands drifted from her waist down to her lower hips, his thumbs brushing the front of her thighs through the dress.

"Don't say that shit unless you intend to follow through on what you started here, sweetheart." As he spoke, his face drifted closer to her body, his lips in line just below her breasts.

Nesta's soul rumbled at the proximity, at his lips so close, at his thumbs lazily stoking her thighs. And it felt so right. Her core heated in a way it hadn't ever before. Deeper. Stronger. She knew he was the only one that could make her quake like this.

MINE

He lowered his head in response to that voice and kissed right between her breasts through the wet dress. Nesta let out a sigh. She could feel Cassian smirk against her chest.

She was aching for him. Everything inside of her was on fire, on edge, as if it had been waiting for this moment- for his touch- all her life. She would be a torch if the rain wasn't cooling her skin.

Nesta ran a hand from the base of Cassians neck upwards, gathering as much hair into her hand as she could, made a fist, and pulled.

Cassian's head snapped back, his eyes misted with lust. She knew he liked that.

She said nothing as she crashed her lips onto his.

EVERY LAST INCH

This time, neither of them was gentle.

Cassian angled his head to deepen the kiss and swiped his tongue across Nesta's lower lip, asking for access.

Nesta was sure every other female Cassian had ever kissed had melted at that.

And suddenly Nesta's blood boiled.

NO ONE ELSE

She bit his bottom lip as she lowered herself down onto her heels once more, onto the evidence of just how much Cassian wanted this.

He hissed at the contact, right where she needed him.

Nesta took her hands out of his hair and plunged them under his shirt. Hard warm muscle met her, and she groaned in spite of her self.

Cassian's lips left her mouth, biting and kissing down the side of her neck. He bunched the fabric of the dress at her shoulder into his fist, slowly pulling it down to expose her shoulder and the top of her breast.

His pace slowed to antagonizing as he kissed down her neck onto her shoulder and collar bones. He kissed and sucked in a way she knew would leave marks. Good. She wanted everyone to know exactly who made her burn with this fire. She wanted the evidence of him on her skin for weeks. Wanted to leave that same kind of evidence onto him, marking him.

M I N E 

She gently began circling her hips against him, earning a deep moan against her skin. His other hand drifted from her thigh to her ribs, inching its way up slowly.

Too slowly.

Nesta grabbed Cassians wrist and moved his hand directly onto her breast. He did not miss a beat as he began to massage her at the same time his mouth explored the top of her other breast.

She was pleasure. She was lust. Her skin was gold wherever he touched. Nothing and no one had ever brought Nesta this close this quickly. She wanted Cassian with her, in her, kissing her, touching her-

She had never begged a man to touch her. Men had begged her, on their knees as if she were a deity.

But then and there Nesta decided she would beg until her throat was raw for Cassian's touch.

She let her mouth fall open, let the breathless word fall off her lips as she ground her hips against him for emphasis.

"Please..."

He lowered the fabric of her dress more, completely exposing both of her breasts. And all at once his lips and fingers closed around her nipples.

She was going to combust. Nesta dug her nails into Cassians abdomen and drug them downward, branding him.

Cassian moaned into her breast, the vibration of his deep voice making her toes curl.

He knew exactly how to make her squirm. She was moaning, breathless, as Cassian worked, his tongue circling and flicking against her.

She ground her hips against him harder, trying to relieve the pressure building up between her thighs.

"Good, sweetheart." Cassian's mouth left her breast only long enough to breathe the words into her skin, before those sinful teeth moved to Nesta's other nipple, nibbling softly.

Nesta gave a small squeal at the sensation.

She dared look down at him, only to see he was already staring up at her. She hadn't realized her eyes had been screwed shut and her head thrown back as he worked. He was watching to see exactly how he made her feel.

And fuck, did he make her feel good.

She felt a building inside of her at the sight of him licking and kissing her.

But it was not the release of a climax that threatened her.

C O N S U M E H I M

That voice spoke again, and Nesta realized it had not been her lust for Cassian speaking, nor the bond.

SUCH POWER

That was the monster, the darkness, crawling toward the surface.

M I N E

And that darkness wanted Cassian. That darkness wrapped itself around the bond, poisoning it, dampening it. One moment it was a glowing connection between them, and the next it was covered by the black expanse of the Void.

Cassian felt her change, felt her lust turn to fear.

He stopped and lifted her sleeves back over her shoulders, instantly in protection mode.

"We don't have to do this, Nesta." His voice was edged with terror, not wanting to continue if she had any doubt in her mind. He brushed her hair from her face as the rain continued to beat down around them. "I'm so sorry if-"

TAKE IT FROM HIM

Nesta gasped and stood up, removing herself completely from Cassian as she felt that darkness spill over the surface toward Cassian.

She turned to point it toward the water, but it was to late. Like a snake, the Void spilled out from beneath her dress, from inside of her, slithering toward where Cassian sat in the sand. The pull of that darkness toward Cassian was so strong it knocked her to her hands and knees.

His eyes widened in realization at the sight of the magic.

He was on his feet in seconds. Any of the passion felt only seconds ago, any desire, was gone.

Cassian kicked off the sand, only making it a few feet into the air before the darkness reached where he was standing.

That darkness was intended to rip Cassian to pieces.

At the sight of it, at the fear in his face, it all came rushing back to her. Those bricks, that wall was so easy to put back up. She had it up for a reason.

Nesta could not believe how easily she had forgotten when she was in his arms. When he was touching her, holding her.

There was no fear in her when they kissed, his touch turning the darkness inside of her to a sky of blue and gold.

It was dangerous- so dangerous- for her to let him make her forget that she wasn't a sky of blue.

She had a power that was uncontrolled and growing each day, she was a hazard to everyone and everything she touched. Even Cassian.

This was Cassian.

The darkness in her did not care about whatever bond was between them. No, Nesta's darkness only cared that he was Fae, Illyrian, bastard, liar, promise-breaker.

Nesta should've only cared that he was Fae, Illyrian, bastard, liar, promise-breaker.

Did she think bedding him would change any of that? Would fucking him fix her pitiful, immortal life?

No.

It wouldn't. She would be wise to remember that.

She took a deep breath, and despite the rain still making her dress and skin wet, she could feel that pocket press against her, and she remembered exactly why she needed that wall up, why she had worked so hard these months to keep her distance. Why she never let herself give into him, give into the bond, that need to finally make that final joining and claim him for herself.

Because while the need to bed him was an ever present leech in her mind, the need for him to be safe and out of harms way was stronger by a thousand times.

...to remind her she could never have all of him. She could only have bits and pieces at a time, never the whole. Because she had torn him apart, chewed him up, and spit him out...

"Go back to the estate." Nesta shouted up at him as the darkness curled back at her feet. She felt it seep back into her skin, retreating just as any hope of ever being with him did. She stood back up on shaky legs.

The monster within her had wanted to consume Cassian. What did that even mean?

She waited for the look. For him to regret what they did, regret wanting her. She let the reality of what had happened harden her, preparing for him to hate her. She waited for him to realize that he could never touch her like that, never have her like that, lest he be obliterated by her power.

Lest he be cursed to a life with her.

Nesta prepared herself for him to look at her like the monster she was.

"Don't do that." Cassian said as he landed back on the sand, now deeming it safe as the darkness curled back asleep inside of her. She went rigid.

He took a step toward her.

She took a step back.

"Nesta, don't do that." Cassian said softer. He reached his hand out for her to take.

She shook her head. "What just happened?" He knew she wasn't asking about the kissing.

He lowered his hand when she didn't step any closer.

"I don't know. I don't know, sweetheart." Nesta tried to ignore how her heart jumped at hearing the nickname as she folded her arms over herself.

Nesta let the name hit her wall, let it enrage her instead of calm her. "Do. Not. Call me that."

Hurt flashed down the bond. Nesta ignored it, safe behind her bricks and under her stormy sky. She tried her best to make that wall block out that damned bond, too.

Cassian continued, "All I know is that if anyone can help you, it's Rhys and Az. They both had to struggle with controlling it."

Cassian observed the two feet of empty space between them. And he closed in by a foot. Nesta did not step back this time.

He reached his hand out again.

"I know what it's like to struggle with the kind of power you seem powerless to control."

She furrowed her brow. "It wanted to hurt you. I couldn't stop it." She began to shake. "I've felt it before, but never like that, never like when we were..." She trailed off. He nodded knowingly.

Nesta looked at her hands. Then back up at Cassian.

She stepped away from him again.

"Nesta?" His voice was riddled with pain. He didn't try to stop any of that emotion from sprinting down the bond. She didn't let herself feel it.

"I'm going to hurt you. I can't control myself around you. I can't control it and I hurt people." Nesta said, backing up another step. She felt the water lap her heels. She was so angry.

Cassian leaned forward, but did not take a step, respecting Nesta's wish for distance between the two of them. His voice was calm, but his desperation showed.

"We can help you learn. That's why we're going to the mountains." He said, still holding out his hand.

She was thinking it. She didn't want to say it. She did anyway, more for herself then him.

She turned her back to him, looking at her reflection distorted in the water by the rain.

"I don't want to be a monster." Her anger had faded into something deeper, softer. Not sadness. Beyond that.

Cassian smiled gently. "You are not a monster, Nesta. Not even close."

She faced him again, and she wasn't smiling as she responded.

"You have no idea what kind of monster I am."

It was raining harder now.

Nesta looked down at her hands, then at her still-torn dress. She looked at the sand where they had sat, still green and rotten from her magic.

Nesta looked back at Cassian, eyes distant.

"And you have no idea what kind of darkness I am capable of. No idea what I took from that Cauldron. How much I took."

Cassian only said, "Then help me understand." He still held his hand out. He held so much hope in his eyes. The bond was glowing again.

Nesta wasn't sure she believed in things as silly as hope anymore.

How foolish she had been, to hope that agreeing to leave Velaris would change anything?

Stupid to hope that maybe her magic wouldn't ruin this one beautiful thing she had found.

Selfish to hope the growing feeling inside of her wasn't the evil she carried in the core of her being.

Irresponsible to hope that maybe, just maybe, if she let him in, if she set down her sharp tongue and cold stare and let him see her as she truly was, then she could be happy.

Ignorant to hope that when they did have that final joining, she would have everything she needed.

A face to come home to.

A love like everyone around her seemed to have.

She hoped that if she could take that last step with Cassian her darkness would recede, and she could finally give up the drinking and the men and the nights that meant nothing because he wasn't there. All of that- she could put it behind her.

Because she would wake up in his arms.

She hoped that when they were finally mated, she would no longer be a monster.

But Nesta knew now that she would always be a monster.

A child's plaything, hope.

Still, she closed the distance between them, never breaking eye contact, and took his hand. He pulled her closer, scooped an arm under her behind to support her, and took off.

Flying toward the estate.


	9. Chapter 9- Play Savior

The flight was short. The rain pounded against Cassian, cooling his head. He had felt that darkness in her, long before he had ever touched her. It never scared him, only one more thing about her that endlessly fascinated him. But then, on the beach, it was so raw and so powerful, his own power responded hungrily. That darkness made the bond bleak and fragile like glass. He felt it under her skin with every touch, tasted it on her tongue.

He didn't know why he could still feel it toying with him even as Nesta walked out of his arms at the estate, not bothering to look back at him, swishing her hips and lifting her chin.

Cassian tried- really really tried- not to watch those sinful hips as he gathered himself and followed her into the estate.

Rhys greeted them at the door. To his credit, he only stopped for a few seconds, looking at the two of them side by side through the door. Cassian knew he could smell it on them, if not the lingering arousal then the stronger bond that the two now shared.

Rhys took a breath and spoke to Cassian first, "We have a healer waiting for you upstairs." He stepped aside so the two of them could walk in, Nesta cutting Cassian off to walk in first.

So it was back to that then.

The only difference was that now whenever she brought a hand up to mindlessly stroke her collarbone as she listened to Rhys- a nervous habit she did often- he knew exactly what that collarbone felt like under his lips. What sounds he could draw from her when he kissed them. Lower.

His crotch tightened.

Nesta's face went red and she brought her hand down to her side, letting her hair fall over her shoulder and over those collar bones.

Not that it helped Cassians situation, as Nesta with her hair down and drenched in that white dress made him want to kick Rhys out of his own house and take his time to-

"Cassian, did you hear me?"

His head snapped toward Rhys, and he realized he had been staring at Nesta. She was beet red, eyes down. She now had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Rhys was holding out a blanket to Cassian.

Cassian shook his head a bit and ran a hand through his hair. He gripped the blanket and wrapped it around himself as he replied to his brother, "Healer in my room, yes. I'll go up there after we talk."

Nesta's lips pursed at that. She didn't want to talk.

"No, brother." Rhys said, stepping past Nesta toward Cassian. "Go now. We can talk later."

Cassian paused. "That's a half truth?" He could sense it in Rhys, the lingering end of the sentence.

Rhys put a hand on Cassian's back and turned him toward the stairs, in the exact opposite direction of Nesta. The animal in him, the part of him that could still feel Nesta's skin under his fingers, could still hear her moans- that part of him screamed at the idea of leaving her so soon after the beach. After he was so close to finally joining with her, giving her the life she deserved, making her happy and abolishing all of that darkness.

His soul screamed at having to leave her, even for a moment.

She would hate him if he knew he was thinking that.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking with Cassians, and gave him a small nod.

Go.

His heart eased at that, if only a little.

"We, you and I, will talk about this later. I'll brief you on everything," Rhys said as he led Cassian up the stairs.

Rhys kept talking, about what they were going to do at the camps, updates on Devlon the snake and his latest efforts to disobey Rhys, and to his credit the General in him was listening.

But Cassian was distracted by the new feeling in his gut. The connection that was usually only a thread between himself and Nesta was now a rope, strong and resilient. It was bright white as he rounded the bend in the twisting stairs and stopped to look down.

Icy grey eyes met his. She was staring up at him, and he knew she had watched every step he took up the stairs. He braced his hands on the railing.

Standing there, with the setting sun spilling in through the door lighting her like an angel, she was the most beautiful thing Cassian had ever seen.

She had a faint glow all around her. Her auburn hair shined golden as it fell just under her bosom, wild and wet. Her eyes warmed ever so slightly meeting his own.

He just stared. His heart sang.

Nesta took three deep breaths. Then her breath caught and her eyes widened.

And then, suddenly, as if someone had knocked the wind out of him, she blocked her end of that bond, completely shutting him out. Nesta looked away from him, as if he were nothing, a fly on the wall, and walked into the sitting room, out of Cassians view.

Cassian wasn't ready for how much that hurt him.

_______________________________________________________________________________

She couldn't look at him for another second. That stare, the contentment to just look at her as if he had all day to do so. His eyes were warm pools of honey and she remember exactly how his arms felt around her waist.

It made her feel sick to her stomach.

She had barely walked into the sitting room when Feyre ran into her and threw her arms around her neck. 

A hug. From Feyre.

Nesta slowly brought her arms up to embrace her sister back. Feyre was shaking.

"Mother above, Nesta." Feyre pulled back and ran her hands over Nesta, examining her, asking various, Are you okay? and You're not hurt anywhere?

Nesta could only shake her head at her sister. She had to look down to meet Feyre's eye, as she stood several inches taller then her sister.

Nesta stepped out of her sisters arms. "I'm fine. I'm okay." She said.

Feyre looked over her own shoulder, back at the window sill. Nesta's eyes followed, only to see that blackness, that rot was still there. She could also see a small plume of black smoke rising from the footprints, also still rotten into the ground on the floor of the house.

Her eyes went blank, that darkness inside of her stirred, and any and all passion she had felt only moments before was wiped clean as her sister looked back to her and said, slowly,

"No, Nesta. No, you're not."

Nesta looked back to her sister. She only nodded, and Feyre led her through the sitting room to a large oak door next to the book shelf. She lifted to her tip toes to reach on top of the book shelf and pulled her hand away with a key. 

The lock clicked and Feyre turned the key and opened the door.

The room was not like any other room in the house. It was a small room. The walls were dark wood and small glass lamps hung on the walls. One large light fixture hung from the ceiling.

"Welcome to my office." Her sister said hesitantly as she scurried behind the desk.

"Its...small."

Feyre huffed a laugh. "Small is comfortable for me."

Nesta took in the room. Every square inch of the walls were covered. Some paintings, some pressed flowers, small bookshelves with three or four books each. What caught Nesta was what the paintings were.

These paintings were different from the others in her house. The ones in the house were light and warm and rosy, filled with yellows and oranges and reds.

These were cold and dark and real. So much more realistic then the others in the house. Painted with blues and blacks and purples.

There was one of their father. He was sitting in a broken chair, intently carving a small piece of wood, smiling to himself.

There was one of their old cabin, where they had lived before everything went to Hel. That seemed like a thousand years ago, in reality only a little over two.

Right below that, there was a painting of all three of them. Of Elain, Feyre, and Nesta sitting around the fire in their cabin.

Feyre had painted her. Only once, in this picture, but still. Nesta stared at the picture, letting that sink in for only a moment, and moved on.

As Nesta inspected the walls, the paintings from their past lives, the flowers, the books, Feyre went behind the desk. A familiar sound caught Nesta's attention, and she snapped her head around.

There, behind the desk, the third creaky drawer open, was the dresser her and her sisters shared.

The paint was chipped and faded, but Nesta could see it as if it had been painted only yesterday. Flowers on Elain's drawer, the night sky on Feyre's, and flames on her own.

It was her drawer, on the bottom, that had let out the creak, such a familiar and haunting song it made Nesta's gut wrench. She walked behind the desk, scattered with parchments and books and the like.

In that bottom drawer, in Nesta's drawer, lay some kind of jewelry set. Just at the sight of it, the acid she always felt burning her receded.

Nesta could only stare at the small dresser.

Feyre reached down and picked up a silver ring with a beautiful gemstone of some kind set into it. The gem's colors seemed to simmer and shift.

She held it out to Nesta.

"Do you know what these are, Nesta?" Feyre asked, and Nesta took the ring, inspecting it.

No, this was no regular gemstone. "It's some kind of magic." She said to her sister, looking down at her as she handed the ring back.

Feyre didn't accept it. Instead, she bent back down and wiggled the drawer out of the dresser, setting the entire drawer on top.

Nesta furrowed her brows and crouched down next to the dresser.

"Feyre, how did you get this? The whole place was destoryed..." She let her voice trail off as she ran her hand down the side of the old wood.

Rough and raw, the wood was completely unfinished, aside from the faded paint Feyre had added so long ago.

Feyre crouched to Nesta's level, running her finger along the top of her drawer.

She didn't look at Nesta as she said, "Rhys saved it. I don't know how, but he gave it to me as a house-warming gift once the estate was finished." Feyre smiled as she pulled her finger away and brushed the dust off on her pants.

"I only use it to hold these." Feyre stood back up, and Nesta followed her up hesitantly. She would not accept anything from her sister, especially nothing of value. She had done enough damage, taken and taken and taken.

Looking down at the jewelry and jewels in the wood drawer before her, she knew it must have been VERY expensive. 

It was a set of two rings, a pair of earrings, and a thin black lace choker. Then there was a black velvet drawstring jewelry bag, weighed down with something.

The rings were set in an intricate and elegant silver, beautifully framing the gems. The choker was simple enough, with one of those same gems at the center. The earrings were a simple dangle with the same gem set in each.

The gems themselves though...

Nesta gasped.

"Those are Dragons Breath Opals." She said, taking a step back.

(seriously, google dragons breath opal. stunning.)

They were so recognizable. More rare to the Fae then children, they were a deep beautiful purple with a orange streak through the middle.

They also held an intense magical quality.

Amren had told her about them. She herself had only one, the only one in the Night Court, Amren had told her, and that little fireball protected it with a passion. Amren had insisted that they were so rare because they needed a magic pulse to become formed. One powerful enough to wipe out hundreds of men at once.

When Nesta had said, "Well how did you get yours then?" Amren had not replied.

Only smiled like a serpent and laughed under her breath.

Feyre closed Nesta's hand back around the ring as she said, "They are yours, Nesta."

"No." Nesta said, not needing to even think about it. "I want nothing from you, especially not those cursed gems." She practically threw the ring back into the drawer.

She went around to the other side of the desk, content to storm off and wipe this entire day from her mind, when her sister interrupted her.

"You created them." She said.

Nesta turned back to her sister.

"Start making sense or I am leaving." Nesta shot back.

Feyre picked up the choker and came around the other side of the desk toward Nesta.

"As soon as I knew you had power, as soon as I knew how much after the Battle of Hybern," Nesta flinched at the memory, "I wanted to get these for you. These are Siphons, Nesta." She held the choker out to her sister.

"They were white this morning, but after your blast in the Sidra, when I came back to grab them for you, they had changed to this. They were normal Opals."

The weight of the words settled on Nesta.

"Your power changed them, Nesta. Into the most rare gem in Pyrithain. That isn't a coincidence." When Nesta again didn't take the necklace, Feyre returned behind the desk, setting it back into the drawer.

"They...reacted to my power? How...?" Nesta had no idea what to do, how to move forward.

Only the most powerful warriors and magic wielders wore Siphons. Most of that small group only wore one. Yet here, before her as she rounded the desk, sitting back onto the edge of it, were 5 Siphons. Two on the rings, two on the earrings, and one on the choker.

Nesta reached out to the small black lace bag, and pulled the drawstring to open it.

There, in the bag, were 4 more.

And they were giant.

The size of her hand.

The destruction, the absolute devastation it would take to create these would be astronomical.

Nesta was stick to her stomach.

"What the hell did you do to make these?" She spat at her sister, not knowing if she really wanted an answer.

As Feyre took a breath to answer, Rhysand stepped into the small room.

All the air dissipated.

He said to Feyre, low and slow, "Is everything alright in here?"

Nesta couldn't break his stare as he walked toward the desk and took a seat in one of the two armchairs that sat before the desk.

She heard Feyre behind her, "Yes, I was actually hoping you could help me explain-" Feyre picked the black drawstring bag up and placed it on the desk in Rhysand's view.

Upon seeing the bag, Rhysand stiffened, took a deep breath, and looked at Nesta.

"You should sit down." He said, waving a hand to the seat across from him.

Feyre rounded the desk, and Nesta couldn't help but feel surrounded by sharks, circling and waiting.

Nesta couldn't help but wish Cassian were there.

She shook her head.

"I'm fine standing." Nesta said, taking a small step back. Small, but she knew both of them noticed.

Feyre sighed and held the black bag in her hands. She looked at Rhysand, who nodded, and she turned to Nesta.

"We found these while counting the dead on the beach after Hybern. These were laying in decayed ground, which was odd, because no where else on the beach was the ground decayed." She looked down. "We found in-tact bodies everywhere on the beach, none of them decayed, but where we found these..."

Her mate cut her off. "There were no bodies. Just green gunky ground and four Dragons Breath Opals." He leaned forward in his chair. "Do you know how Dragons Breath Opals are formed, Nesta?"

Her throat was so dry she didn't know if she could answer. She wasn't looking at either of them, only at the wall ahead of her. A painting of the winter woods.

The room felt colder.

"Nesta?"

Nesta shifted her vision to her sister. Small tears sprung in her eyes, and she cursed herself for it.

She asked her sister, more meekly then she wanted to, "It was me?"

Horror gripped her tongue as she asked the truth she already knew. Nesta had carried the weight of her blast that day, her rage, for months and months. All the people she had killed with just one release.

And that horror, the repulsion, grew tenfold as Feyre responded, "Yes, Nesta. It was."

Seeing the pity in her sister's eyes, Nesta burst.

"I never asked for this. I never wanted this- this- power that you have. I was content being nobody." She spat at her sister. Rhysand flashed his teeth, but Feyre stood betweem them.

Nesta couldn't help herself as she continued."The three of us never had ANYONE but eachother!" She huffed. "No one. Our own father wouldn't even move out of his chair to help stop us from starving- to - death." She emphasized each word, watched as that pain sank into Feyre.

"That's not fair, Nesta, and you know it." She shot back, to which Nesta snorted.

"You were only 15 when you started hunting. When you saw we were dying, rotting were we stood you were the one who saved us. Not Father." Nesta stopped. Feyre had saved them.

"I always loved him." Nesta whispered. "I still do. But he was not the one who kept us alive."

Nesta stepped closer to Feyre.

"You were." She said. Feyre caught her breath.

And Nesta let her eyes turn icy as she said, "And then you left us. You abandoned us for a life a mates and riches and magic as Elain and I had to watch our life be ripped from our hands. If you really wanted to help me, to help Elain or I, you should have thought about that before you became High Lady. Before you abandoned your family for the Fae."

The room was deadly quiet.

"You don't get to drag me into Hel and then offer me a cool drink of water. You don't get to play savior when it's convenient for you."

Rhysand shot to his feet, shouting obscenities at Nesta. This time, Nesta did back up, until she slammed into the wall and Rhysand was still advancing on her.

Feyre placed her body between Rhysand and Nesta, making the High Lord of the Night Court stop dead in his tracks.

Rhysand huffed at his High Lady, "Shes already going crazy, Feyre, she's wrong-" 

Nesta furrowed her brows "I'm going crazy? What are you talking-"

"She's right, Rhys." Feyre said, and both Rhysand and Nesta stilled.

Feyre made a gesture with her head toward the door, and Rhysand growled but stalked out of the oak room. The silence after was thick.

Feyre took a step forward, hanging her head and taking a deep breath. Nesta stayed right where she was against the wall.

Her younger sister turned back to her, all the decorum of a leader gone. Just a sister beaten down from argument after argument.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "You are right. I should never have brought you or Elain anywhere into this. You didn't ask to have this power, and now that you have it it's like your body- your mind- isn't even yours.It's foreign."

Nesta nodded.

Her sister continued. "When I went back to the Spring Court the first time, I went to a place called Under the Mountian."

Then, her sister told her a story.

A story of love and determination. Of self discovery and of honesty. A story of beating death, only to return to the place that would eventually suffocate you.

By the time Feyre was finished, sitting facing away from her in the armchair, Nesta's heart was heavy.

Nesta said nothing as she sat down in the armchair across from Feyre.

Feyre didn't shift in her chair as she said, "When I tell you I know exactly how you feel, I mean it."

Nesta could only ask, "What will the opals do then."

Feyre looked at Nesta for a moment, then stood and walked behind the desk. She grabbed the drawer from where it sat on the dresser and set it on the desk. Nesta only watched as her sister picked up the rings and came back to sit in the arm chair.

She suddenly grabbed Nesta's hand and slipped one ring on. Nesta flinched at first, but when she felt the power calm and center inside her, she didn't hesitate to grab the second ring from Feyre and slip it onto the ring finger of her opposite hand.

Feyre almost smiled. "They will help you filter and control your power. Cassian has Siphons, he can explain better then I can, but he uses his for battle." She put her hand over her sisters. "You are going to use yours to safely filter out power to release the strain."

Nesta flexed her fingers a few times, feeling the flow of power through her body now include the rings.

She looked at her sister as she stood, walked behind the desk, and said, "Rhysand said I was going crazy." She let the question hang in the air as she put on the earrings and the choker.

Feyre looked away and sighed. "Well, if you don't use your power for an extended period of time-" Nesta slipped one earring into her ear. "- then a person can go insane from the pressure."

Nesta slipped the other earring in.

"You haven't touched your power-" Nesta picked up the choker,"-in almost 7 months."

Nesta hooked the choker around her neck. She almost groaned at the feeling of relief and release the flowed through her. That noise, that feeling of that thing waiting just under her skin lessened considerably now that she had all five on. She could feel the 5 Siphons helping ease the burden of that screaming under her skin, clearing her mind and sharpening her focus.

She barely heard her sister say, "Rhys and I think that part of the reason for your outburst the other day and your anger and your-" Feyre searched for the word, "-erratic behavior is because that insanity is already taking its toll."

Nesta retorted, "I've always been cold, Feyre, I don't think it has to do with me being insane, I think it has to do with me being in a completely foreign world in a foreign body with-"

"Always cold yes, but cold and honorable. Loyal. Honest. That's changed, Nesta."

She didn't respond.

"You've been hearing voices, haven't you?"

Nesta stilled. She looked at her sister. Apparently that was all the answer Feyre needed.

"You've been having worse and worse flashbacks. Reactions to water. A constant pressure in your head, under your skin."

She cocked a hip and crossed her arms as she said to her younger sister, "Cassian told you."

Feyre didn't hesitate. "He's the only way I know if you're alive or not. So when he came back from your apartment, yes, I did ask him what happened."

Nesta decided she would curse him for that later.

"These will help, Nesta. These, and going to the mountains to learn to control it."

Nesta only nodded at her younger sister.

"Let's go upstairs." Feyre said, as she picked up the black bag and handed it to Nesta. Slowly, Nesta wrapped her hands around the smooth velvet.

"I have a change of clothes for you and a place to sleep."

She turned to her sister.

"You're leaving for the mountains tomorrow, Nesta."


	10. Chapter 10- Alone

TRIGGER WARNING: NEGATIVE SELF TALK REGARDING BODY IMAGE.

LINES INDICATE WHERE TRIGGER STARTS AND STOPS.

When they exited the small office, Rhysand was in the sitting room pacing. Feyre only nodded at him as she passed. He immediately sat down, clearly relieved.

Feyre let her up the spiral stairs. Try as she may, Nesta couldn't help but admire the beautiful house.

The landing of the second floor had two huge archways that were open to the outside, much like the House of Wind. Long, white, silk curtains were open and flowing in the warm breeze. Nesta could only assume there was some sort of magic to prevent the weather from effecting the inside of the house. The view was breathtaking.

Nesta had no idea what it was to live in such luxury. She doubted she ever would.

There was a seating area with fluffy couches and chairs, a small table, a few bookshelves lined the walls. To both her left and right were hallways lined with windows, smaller versions of the giant archways on the landing. Feyre led her down the hallway to her left.

Feyre stopped at the end of the hallway, passing five windows, in front of a large white door with a golden doorknob. Nesta assumed it was real gold.

She opened the door to a room larger then Nesta had ever seen. A room for a princess, a queen. The white walls were carved in elegant patterns and curves and were accented beautifully with the blue pastel curtains that led out to a balcony. The paintings in this room were of flowers of all kinds. Gold accents were perfectly placed around the room, making Nesta feel as though she were standing in a heavenly cloud dripping with golden sunlight.

The awe of her home had obviously worn off to Feyre, as she barely glanced at the room after opening the large door.

"This is where you'll be staying. Cassian is with the healer now, but I'll have them stop by to check you before they leave." She said, still only standing in the doorway.

Nesta was still taking in the room, and nodded as Feyre continued.

"The kitchen is downstairs to the right, help yourself to anything. I've sent for your bag from your apartment. For tonight, the armoire is full, so pick out anything you like to sleep in and to travel in tomorrow. It's in the dressing room through the doors directly to your left."

Again, all Nesta could to was nod. She walked slowly to the bed as Feyre continued talking. The bed was elevated, and Nesta ascended the two steps up to the platform the bed was on. The posts and headboard were carved gold in that same swirling pattern, culminating in a bloom on the high ceiling where the same blue pastel fabric fell around the bed in a canopy. It was big enough to fit four people, maybe five.

The whole bedroom seemed like a gross display of wealth. The whole house did.

"The bathroom is that door,-" Feyre pointed across the wide room to a door on the wall. "Towels, hair and body wash, bubbles, scrubs..."

Feyre looked at her feet.

"This is a lot. I know."

Nesta tried not to be furious as she replied, "Yes. It is. If this is only a guest room I don't want to see your room."

She turned to her sister as she said, "Not a single person in the Night Court should be starving or homeless or helpless if you're spending this kind of money on a guest room."

Her sister only sighed and said, "Cassian is down the other hallway. He knows the house, so if you need anything, ask him. I'll be gone with Rhys until morning."

Feyre began closing the door, and said meekly just before shutting it, "Goodnight, Nesta."

And then she was alone.

Nesta explored the room. The huge vanity covered a third of the wall nearest the door, with bottles of perfume and lotions and various kinds of makeup and accessories on it.

Creeping open the door to the dressing room, Nesta tried not to gasp and she looked into a room the size of her apartment- filled with clothes.

She ran her finger down a line of nightgowns, silks and linens and cottons. There were formal gowns, shirts and pants, undergarments, and at the back of the room a pedestal surrounded by mirrors. Nesta could picture someone standing there in a dress, gazing at themselves from all angles deciphering if it was the right outfit choice.

Exiting the dressing room, she crossed the vast space and entered the bathroom, only to find it almost as big as the dressing room. It had a floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. Nesta could only imagine what that was for. The bath itself was actually in the floor, next to another archway open to the outside.

It would actually be very relaxing, Nesta decided, to submerge herself into that bath with a glass of wine and look out onto the city. There was also a large sink area with a mirror, and a huge section of the wall with shelves full of various bathing products.

She left the bathroom and came back into the main bedroom area. She ascended the bed platform and sank onto the edge of the mattress. It was sickeningly plush. She flopped herself back onto the bed, not even spanning half of it. When she turned her head, she noticed there was a plate of assorted fresh fruit on one of the night stands.

"Of course there is." She said as she took a breath, stood, and grabbed a stunningly red strawberry. She took a bite, then two, then finished it off and picked another.

Nesta needed a bath.

She finished her second strawberry and waltzed back into the bathroom. She peeled off her white gown. The gift from Elain. Now torn and tattered and ruined.

Nesta set it by the sink, and without thinking twice, tore off the tattered sleeves. She dug in the drawers and cabinets until she found scissors, and cut off the rotted bottom, right below the waist line. What was once a beautiful white gown, a gift from a light in her life, was now a simple sleeveless shirt.

At least she could keep a part if it. Keep that paper sewed next to her heart.

She ran a hand through her hair, and sighed. Turning toward the bath, caught a glimpse of herself in that giant mirror.

TRIGGER WARNING

_______________________________________________________________________________

She was filthy. Disgustingly thin. Lanky. Her breasts were warped and disproportionate. Her shoulders and hips were bony, her thighs barely touching. Her skin was taunt and shiny, pulled tightly over her bones.

She looked like a corpse.

She supposed that in some ways, she was.

Nesta turned back to the sink, took off her new jewelry, and turned back to the mirror.

There were women- females- in Velaris who were stunning. Her own sisters were stunning, gaining weight after having starved for so many years and blushing with happiness. Females who filled out dresses, who walked with confidence, who could paint their lips red and who had beautiful stretch marks as proof of their power and presence. Females who could laugh and have their stomach jiggle as they did. Females who were full of love and life and had the body to prove that.

________________________________________________________________________________

end trigger warning

Cassian deserved someone like that.

As soon as the thought entered Nesta's head, she felt a flash down the bond, hitting her end hard.

She almost ran to the mirror and shut the curtains on either side of it. This body she was stuck in was not hers. Not really. It was governed by power and instinct. It wasn't hers. Why should she care for it?

Besides, she never had much of an appetite these days anyway. Suddenly the two strawberries felt heavy in the pit of her stomach.

She picked some kind of wash and a bar of soap from the shelf, grabbed a towel as well as a smaller washcloth, and turned on the water.

Not caring if it was hot or cold, Nesta stopped it when it was only a few inches deep. She wetted the wash cloth and rubbed the bar of soap onto it. She lathered it onto her skin, letting it clean away the events of the past two hours. She didn't want to think of any of it.

She let the breeze from outside raise goosebumps on her skin as she ran the washcloth under clean water and once again rubbed it on her skin to remove the soap.

She leaned over the side of the tub and got her hair wet in the shallow water. Mindlessly, she ran through the process of washing her hair without actually dunking her head. It was tedious and frustrating, but she had mastered that skill in the past few months. All the progress she had made taking baths had been completely reversed today. Back to square one, then.

When she was done, she didn't bother to open the curtains to the mirror again. She slipped her jewelry back on and she grabbed the sky blue silk robe hanging by the door. It was so soft and luxurious, reaching all the way down to the floor, even dragging behind it a small train. Nesta slid her arms into it and exited the bathroom.

Only to see someone sitting at the small table in the sitting area next to the balcony.

Nesta pulled the robe tighter around herself as she asked, "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

The woman's head snapped up, looking at Nesta with piercing blue eyes. She stood, several inches shorter then Nesta, and her crooked wings popped out from behind her.

An Illyrian. With clipped wings.

She made her way over to Nesta, nodding her head slightly. "Yes, sorry to bother you if you were bathing. I'm Verra." The small woman held out her hand.

Nesta's did not take it.

Verra smiled a bit as she pulled her hand back and continued, "The High Lady told me you had a very...eventful afternoon."

Nesta huffed as she walked past Verra back to the table they were just sitting at. "So she sent a small woman to my room in hopes that she'll-"

Verra interrupted her. "I'm the healer. And not she, they."

Nesta apologized, waving a hand to the chair across from her.

The healer advanced. "My High Lady told me you may be a bit...challenging to work with."

As Verra sat down across from her, Nesta said, "Well, I will try to make this easier on the both of us. I am fine, so you can leave and go about your day."

Nesta observed them as they walked.

Verra was unlike anyone Nesta had ever seen. Verra had the clearest skin Nesta had ever seen, golden and tan. They had long honey hair that was braided down their back, settling between their wings. Their wings were dark brown, the tips ending at odd angles due to the cruel barbaric practice the Illyrians still took part in. They had a slight build, and Nesta knew just by looking at them that Verra had no training or fighting experience.

What struck Nesta the most though was their eyes. The brightest clearest blue, like the shallows of an ocean. Those eyes were so attentive, so expressive.

They expressed concern as they sat down across from Nesta.

"I need to at least take your vital signs. Do you have any pain anywhere?"

When Nesta took a breath to retort, Verra cut in. "My High Lady requested it. It will only take a few moments.Do you have any pain anywhere?"

Yes, Feyre was High Lady. Verra had said that ten times since they had spoken. Was there a required amount of times Verra had to say it? One of the new laws of the Night Court, Nesta thought, was that you had to call Feyre 'High Lady' at least a hundred times a day or Rhysand will appear and stare at you until you combusted.

Nesta smiled to herself as she said to Verra, "No. No pain."

They nodded, then dug into the small bag they had set down beside them.

They took out some sort of medical equipment, and Nesta said nothing as they got to work.

Verra was honest when they said it would only take a few moments. After a couple of requests for deep breaths and the cool stinging on metal on skin, Verra said, "Your vital signs are normal. If you do start to be short of breath or nauseous, please let the High Lady know and I will be here as soon as I can."

Then they were gone.

And Nesta was alone, once again.

It was such a painfully familiar feeling.

She sunk into it as she sunk down in her chair. Letting it consume her, become her.

Before she could think twice about it, Nesta changed out of her robe into a simple grey dress from the dressing room. She sat in front of the oversize vanity and braided her hair atop her head, not minding the few strands that fell out, framing her face.

She left her room, slipped through the gaudy estate, and no one stopped her as she walked out the front door. Nesta started walking toward the heart of the city.   
_______________________________________________________________________________

Clothes were strewn about the room, shirts and dresses and formal gowns. Nesta had a hay-day in here apparently, if the mess was any indication. At the back of the room, he could see her, standing on that pedestal like a goddess and looking at herself in the mirror.

And, damn.

She was wearing a deep purple gown made from flowing sheer fabric. It was almost a robe, with fur lining the long sleeves and the train. She had blown out the chandelier over head and lit only a few candles in the room.

It was definitely mood lighting.

Cassian walked closer, and leaned against the wall. "You look stunning."

Nesta jumped, gasping slightly. She whipped around, reveling the front of the dress. A deep v-neckline, almost brushing her belly button. He could see the slight curve of her breast before it disappeared behind the deep fabric. He could see every inch of her body under that purple fabric. A bejeweled belt gathered the fabric of the dress at the bottom of the v, sweeping it to the floor like dark purple water.

Nesta was fuming by the time Cassian bothered to let his eyes trail back up to her face.

"Get the Hel out."

"Absolutely not, sweetheart."

She took a step toward him.

"I told you. You don't get to call me that."

He cocked his head. "Then who does?"

At that, Nesta gave a small smirk as she lifted her chin.

"Anyone else who has ever shared my bed."

Cassian swallowed his anger. "You know I've felt them."

Nesta's brows showed her confusion.

Cassian continued, "Through this-"

He pulled on the bond and she stumbled three more steps toward him. They were now so close they shared breath.

"I've felt every single male who has shared your bed here in Velaris. And I know none of them made you feel like I made you feel on that beach today."

He expected her to get pissy, to yell at him. He did not expect her to put a hand to his chest and push him back against the wall and trap him with an arm on either side of his head.

Oh, this was so much more fun then he thought.

"That's interesting, sweetheart," She spat the word at him," because I haven't felt anything like that. You haven't been as lucky as I have, I guess."

She pressed her body against his, and he gave her an unintentional small groan.

"What's the matter, Cassian? Wound a little tight these days?" She repeated the words he had spoken to her all those months ago.

And suddenly, her fist was in his gut. He bent at the waist, hand on his stomach.

Nesta gave him no reprieve though, taking his chin in her hands forcing him to look at her.

"I will not ask you again." She purred, her eyes glowing with victory. "Get. Out."

Well, this had escalated quickly.

He regained his breath and grabbed her hand as she tried to pull it away from his chin.

"I will-

"Let go of me."

"I will if you can tell me that I'm wrong."

Nesta pulled her hand out of his grip and walked back to the pedestal, standing on it and admiring herself in the mirror.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." She said, lifting her arms up to the back of her neck and lifting her hair up. If he didn't know better, Cassian would say Nesta was teasing him.

He was very glad he decided to come to her room.

He knew she saw how he was looking at the slant of her neck, how he eyed her in the dress, with such hunger and ferocity. Those feeling, that need, was so much harder to ignore now. Because he knew what her arms felt like around him. He knew how he could make her squirm and gasp and beg.

Nesta tilted her head to give him a better view. She locked eyes with him in the mirror.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Cassian said, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

His eyes were dark as he again trailed them down her body, now having a full view of her back, her ass, her thighs. She was wickedly beautiful. That bond between them was thick and dark, pulsing with greed.

He locked his eyes back onto hers as she said, equally as low, "You're wrong."

Cassian's shoulders shifted. He uncrossed his arms, and lowered his head, now looking at her from under his eyebrows.

"No."

In two steps, he crossed the space and stepped up on the pedestal behind her.

Cassian brought his mouth to her ear, still making eye to eye with her in the mirror.

"I'm not." He whispered, close enough that he knew she could feel his lips moving on her ear, bringing his arm around her waist.

Breaking eye contact, she looked down and his arm was mere centimetres from her body, but not making contact. He was toying with her, too.

She met his eyes in the mirror again.

He would do a thing, he wouldn't touch her, until she let that wall drop and open her end of the bond.

I'm going to make you work for this. He purred down that white rope connecting them.

"I don't like you. I don't need you. You are so insignificant to me, a fucking gnat that buzzes around my head." She added, "What happened on the beach means nothing."

Cassian smiled against Nesta's ear. "Oh, you wound me, Nesta Archeron."

He bit her earlobe and she sighed ever so gently, and with only that small gesture he felt her let go and open the bond completely to him. He swarmed in and around it, feeling through it just how much she truly wanted this.

He lowered his lips to her neck as he said, "That's a good girl."

Suddenly Nesta whirled around in his arms, put a hand to his throat and squeezed slightly as she pulled him down to her and crashed her lips to his. Cassian immediately responded, gripping her waist harder, and tangling the other hand in her hair. He could tell she was ready for him in that instant, ready to take it as far as she wanted.

Nesta pushed on the hand at his throat to move him against the wall, never breaking the kiss as they stumbled back.

When she felt his back hit the wall, she broke the kiss- only enough to speak- and she said, "This means nothing to me."

Both of Cassians hands gripped her waist and he spun them around so that she was now pinned against the wall. His hands moved from her waist to under her ass and he lifted her, spreading her legs to straddle him. Nesta wrapped her legs around his waist, almost instinctively. His hands grazed the bottom of her ass through the fabric as he began kissing down her neck, that familiar taste of roses and rum greeting him. At the same time, he ground his hips into hers. He felt her legs tighten around his waist. It felt so good, so right, to be settled like this between her legs, to be making her groan with each of his movements.

"You've never been a good liar." Cassian said, re-connecting their lips.   
He let his hands slide under the fabric of the dress, holding her bare ass and he began squeezing gently to the rhythm of his hips. She hissed, throwing her head back against the wall. She was so soft under his hands, shaking with need.

He removed one of his hands and easily slid the loose fabric off her shoulders, fully exposing her chest to him.   
"C-Cassian...fu-" she cut herself off with a moan as his lips closed around her nipple.

His warmth radiated into her, the bond suddenly feeling stronger and louder as he drove his hips against her again. He needed out of his clothes, he needed in her, in Nesta, in her, on her, around her, he wanted to admit that on the beach he would have let her consume him in an instant-

Cassian sprang up in bed, gasping for breath.   
His dreams were filled with her. If not her image, her smell, a glimpse of her hair in a forest, a piece of her jewelry.

Cassian could not get Nesta out of his head.

He stood from the bed, trying to ignore the tightness in his crotch, trying to shake the image of her from his head.   
He had to admit- those were his favorite dreams.   
He stalked into the large bathroom and splashed cool water on his face, waking himself up and bringing him back to reality.   
His instincts were screaming, on high alert since he had returned to the estate. Rhys explained to him how Nesta now had Siphons.

Not just Siphons, but Draogons Breath Opals.

He exited the bathroom and sat back down on the large mattress.

Cassian had no idea what he did to deserve to be mated to such a badass.

Not mated yet. He had to remind himself.

And that thought had him scrunching the sheets on the mattress in his fist.

The way she had thrown her head back as her eyes rolled back into her head, groaning with the pleasure he gave her-

He stood so quickly he almost fell over.

He had to stop thinking about her like that. This wasn't about them, or their bond, or whatever tattered relationship they had.

This was about getting Nesta the help she needed, and it was about making sure Devlon followed the new training protocol once and for all.

He stalked around the room, the blue walls mocking him as he paced.

How in Hel had Rhys done this for months and months? Trying to suppress the aching in his gut for only a few days had been torture.

What nagged him the most was the fact that it would be so easy- so easy- to make Nesta happy once they were mated. He would make sure she ate, gained weight, stopped drinking. He could abolish all that darkness, he could save her- if only she would let him.

Cassian brought his hand to his forehead and gave himself a smack.

"Don't think like that." He said to himself. Nesta was not a doll in need of being manicured. She did not need saving, she needed help. There was a difference.

He remembered how Feyre had told them all about what Tamlin had become, possessive and obsessive and controlling. How he tried to turn Feyre into what he thought she should be.

Cassian prayed every night that he wouldn't let his instincts turn him into that. The urge to protect her was so strong, but his respect for her was stronger. No, he would never become that. He would always suggest and encourage that she seek help, that she take care of herself, but in the end it would always be up to her what she chose to do with her body.

And if she would only let him, he could show her exactly what he knew he could to do her body.

Thus, the cycle of thinking of her began anew, and Cassian slumped into a chair by the balcony. He knew she was right across the hall. Just a stones throw away. Would she even want to see him right now? He really wanted to see her. He wanted to be near her. Just like he always did.

"Ah, fuck." He whispered as he stood and walked out of the room, crossing the landing, and stopping in front of the white door with the gold knob.


	11. Chapter 11- At Peace

Nesta was no where to be found.

The room was identical to his own, but the colors were inverted. His room was blue and silver, while hers was white and gold. That seemed strangely fitting. 

She had been in here, he knew it. He had heard Feyre and her voice and he could still smell roses and rum in the air. 

Cassian stepped into the main room after having checked the bathroom, the dressing room, the balcony- she had left. 

Which was incredibly problematic, not only because Cassian really wanted to mess with her, but also because of what she could be doing in the city. 

Night was in full swing, and the moon taunted him as he jumped the rail on the balcony and flew into the dark skies, following that thread through the city. 

He first checked her apartment, the open window making it easy to get inside. 

Nesta's room was a mess. 

Clothes were strewn about everywhere, in what he could only assume was a mess from packing her bags. He could tell she had been here only moments before by the lingering scent. 

He tried not to notice the heap of empty wine bottles in the living room as he searched for any kind of clue as to where she would be. 

"Dammit." He swore under his breath. Lifting one of the bottles up, he noticed the rim was still wet. 

She had drank all the wine she had in her apartment, then left. 

"Dammit, Nesta." Cassian repeated as he quickly left her apartment to find her. 

He knew where she would be. When the liquor ran out at home, there was only one place she would go for more. 

________________________________________________________________________________

It burned like fire going down her throat. That was one thing about Fae liquor she would never get used to, was how much it burned going down. 

Unfortunately, she learned all to quickly that it burned that much coming back up too. 

She never drank when she was human, not like this. Maybe a glass of wine at an event or dinner, but the taste of alcohol had always turned her off. Made her sick just thinking about it. 

Now, it was almost a punishment for herself. 

It was a punishment until it was the pure bliss of fog and forgetting. 

And tonight there was nothing she wanted to do more then forget.

Nesta had drained 3 bottles of human wine she had brought and saved for a rainy day. Unfortunately, human spirits were shit compared to Fae, so she had been nothing more then slightly buzzed when she left her apartment and came here. 

Her favorite black hole. 

The tavern had a name she had long forgotten, only knowing the way there and nothing more. The name had long worn off the sign hanging above the door. She didn't want to know what it was called anyway. All she knew was that the liquor was cheap, fast acting, and she could always find someone desperate enough to take home. 

At that thought, she giggled. Nesta was not ashamed to be a giggly drunk.

She was doing just that as she sat back in the dimly lit booth, surveying the tavern for a nightly forget-me-not. 

When her eyes met a pair as green as a meadow, she knew she had found him. 

She didn't smile, didn't nod, only finished her drink without so much as a grimace- still making eye contact with the green stranger- and signaled the bartender for another. 

To Nesta's pleasure, the stranger stood from his seat at the bar, grabbed her drink from the bartender, and walked over to sit across from her in her booth. 

He was not not good looking. As he snaked through the tables and chairs, she noted how he walked with a certain grace, not sacrificing stature or power to do so. He was tall, probably five or six inches taller then herself. His hair was floppy and clearly styled to look like it was not styled at all. His dark skin was offset by his light hair, the firelight dancing off it beautifully. 

Nesta couldn't help but stare at the scar that crosses his face, right across his nose, as he sat down and placed her drink in front of her. 

His voice was so deep it rumbled like gravel in Nesta's bones as he spoke, low and quiet, 

"Would you like to get out of here?" 

Nesta ignored the goosebumps that raised on her skin at that voice and giggled as she reached for her drink, brushing his fingertips with hers as she reached for the glass in his hand. 

"That's a bit forward." She countered, leaning back, letting one of her feet brush the strangers leg under the table. Her head swam and her vision was doubled. 

She noted how he didn't stir at that as he responded, "I can tell we came here for the same reasons. Why would I waste time with pleasantries?" 

Nesta slugged back her drink, draining all of it in one go, before sliding her hand across the table, grabbing the green eyed strangers drink, and draining it completely as well. 

Then she slid her hand across the table to cover his, giggled her drunk giggle, and said, "Lets go to yours." 

________________________________________________________________________________

Cassian almost gagged as he entered the tavern, the smell of smoke, liquor, and vomit coiling all around him. He tried to stifle his smell as he walked through the tables, saying hi to a few males he knew. He made his way to the bartender, wiping out a glass and wiping sweat from her forehead with the same rag.

Cassian took a seat. 

The older woman, dressed in a blue tunic and a matching blue head scarf, said from a few feet away, "I'll be with you in just a moment, kid." 

Cassian watched in almost horror as the old woman spat on the glass, shined it some more with the rag, and filled it with ale. 

She then handed it to a waiter, a shorter brunette boy, and said "Table 7. Nanies Special." She then winked at the boy and crossed to Cassian. 

"What can I get you, kid?" 

"I'm actually looking for someone." He said, trying to ignore what he had just witnessed. "She's about yey high- " Cassian held his hand in the air, indicating where Nesta stood compared to himself, "- She usually wears greys or blues, auburn hair always in a bun, grey eyes..." 

The woman only blinked at him. 

Cassian sighed. "She's really mean, usually comes alone and leaves with someone, her drink of choice is absinthe and rum on the rocks." 

With that, the bartenders eyes light up with excitement, as if recalling an old friend. 

"Oh! Tankerd! Yeah, she left about a half hour ago." The old woman let out a thin laugh.

Cassian's eyebrows narrowed. "Tankerd?" 

The woman picked up a cup from an empty seat and began to clean it as she spoke.

"One of my best costumers. She never says her name, so we call her Tankerd because she has the highest tolerance of any one here. Have you ever tried that drink of hers? It's her signature, orders it every time. 'Round here we call it the Maggot, cuz it feels like maggots are eating out your throat when you drink it. It'll get you face down on the floor with one sip, but she throws 'em back like she's drinking water. I can't even th-" 

"She was here tonight, right? Did you see her leave?" Cassian interrupted the woman. His leg was bouncing under the bar, anxious to get out of here and find Nesta. He could still smell her here, through the smoke and spirits. 

The old woman continued cleaning the glass. "Oh, yeah, there's rarely a night when she isn't here. She was with a taller fella, beautiful male. Damn, that Tankerd always manages to milk the best males out of this place. She really fin-"

Cassian interrupted the older woman again before she could go off on another tangent about how Nesta was sleeping with such great looking males. "Did you see which way she went?" 

SPLAT

The bartender spit on the glass and rubbed the cloth on it. "Oh yeah, she left with the blonde bombshell and they were headed to his place. He's a regular too, he lives down in the Banks. You know, I never really-" 

Cassian flipped the old woman a coin, thanked her, and then tried not to run out the door toward the Banks. 

The Banks were a ramshackle neighborhood, almost as bad as the one Nesta's apartment was in. As he flew over the city toward the Banks, he felt that all to familiar feeling in his gut that told him Nesta and this 'blonde bombshell' were getting to know each other quite well. 

His soul raged every time he knew something like this was happening.

And he knew every time it happened.

What was he planning to do? Rip in there and pull him off of her? Nesta would never forgive him. Nesta would be pissed to know he was even following her. 

Why was he following her? 

Cassian landed on a building just across from the Banks, feeling exactly what the male was doing to Nesta through the bond.

It killed him. It drove him to pure insanity even thinking about anyone else touching her. Especially after today, after what they had just been through. 

Something so much deeper and and stronger then anger coursed through him. Still, something kept him on that rooftop.

Every time he could feel it. Every lover, every stoke, every touch. 

Every time. 

He had never told Nesta that. He doubted she would care. 

If she did, she wouldn't be here. 

He shouldn't be here. This was her last night of freedom, before being forced into a deal she didn't want with him. 

Someone she hated. 

When he felt Nesta's back hit the soft mattress, he flew back to the estate, and had a strong drink of his own. 

________________________________________________________________________________

His lips tasted like berries, fresh and light. 

His hands were soft and gentle, taking so much care wherever they touched her. 

His eyes looked over her like she was a beautiful painting he couldn't get enough of. 

He kissed her like she was the only person he had ever kissed. 

So, she let him fuck her like that too. 

Sloppy and loud and borderline unpleasant, it was clear he had not had much experience. He didn't object when she pushed his shoulders down against the mattress and topped him, bringing him to his climax quickly. 

She, however, did not finish. It all felt wrong. To be with him, to let someone else touch her like that. Even now, laying in his bed with his arm around her waist, felt like she was out of place and foreign. 

That feeling had been present before with her one night stands. That's why she drank and fucked like a mad woman, because on day- just maybe- it would go away. 

After the beach today, after the bond was so much stronger now, she doubted that would ever be the case.

She sighed as she slipped herself out of his bed, put her clothes back on, and went back to the tavern. 

She ordered two more drinks, hating how the bad sex and guilt had sobered her up. She didn't even know if she wanted to finish herself off, to drunk now to even walk back to the estate. 

Nesta stumbled through the street, completely empty at this time of night. She knew from her time in the underbelly of Velaris that everyone had already found their nightly lover- whether it be drink or body- and had settled in. 

She giggled to herself as she tried to keep her feet under her. Giggled at the pure idiocy of her situation. The giggle turned to a full on laugh, gut busting and head swimming, as she leaned against the gate of the estate. 

She faintly heard the whoosh as a certain Illyrian landed next to her. 

"Wh-" giggle, "What the absoleeewwoootte fuck do you want?" She let the lewo draw out as if it were a song.

Cassian didn't smile as he scooped her up, one arm under her legs, the other behind her back. She gave a small cry, which did draw a smile smile fro his lips. He flew her up up up until they landed in a large blue room. Nesta, through her hazy vision, recognized this as a room very similar to her own in the estate. She took the opportunity to smack his arm as they landed.

"Thisis your rom." Nesta sputtered out the words as he sat her down on in a chair. She watched him walk to the other side of the small table she was seated at and pour her a glass of something. Water.

"Yes, it is." He sighed, as if even being in her presence was physically draining. She didn't blame him.

She curled her legs beneath her in the chair, snickering again at how cat-like she felt, and pushed the glass away from her when Cassian set it in front of her. 

Cassian rubbed his eyes harshly as he said, "If I put absinthe in it, will you drink it?" 

Nesta was to drunk to recoil at his tone. She picked up the glass, taking a few tries to actually grab it, and drained it all as if it were a shot. She set the cup back down. 

She didn't feel any more sober. 

Cassian stood and walked to his bed, pulling off the throw blanket at the foot. As he passed her to go back to his seat, he draped it across her shoulders. She almost cackled at how warm and comfortable it was, snuggling herself down into it. 

"You drank all the wine at your apartment." 

Nesta's arms moved clumsily as she lifted her hands to her hair, undoing the messy ponytail and letting her hair fall down around her. She wrapped the blanket back around herself as she chortled. Being a giggly drunk was not beneficial when trying to have a serious conversation with bastard bat boys. Especially the one sitting across from her, staring her down. 

"That issomething I did, ee-yes. And you stalked me, sooo I would say-" giggle, "we are about even, you winged fucking freak." 

Hearing those words come out of her mouth made her laugh even harder. She had no filter when she drank, so this was going to be very interesting. 

Cassian did not shrink back at her words. In fact, Nesta could have sworn a small smile was planted on his lips.

Nesta brought her hand to her mouth to cover her laughter as she said.

"I'm so sorry, I'm such an asshole." More giggling. 

Cassian was just staring at her, smiling, and shaking his head.

Nesta noticed this was a reoccurring habit of his. The staring and smiling thing.

"Yeah," he said, laughing to himself, "You are." 

"I hate you." She blurted. She didn't know why she said it. 

He stopped smiling. "What?" 

Nesta chuckled. "Your face looksso steeewwwpid right now." She sang, standing and feeling a little less woosy then before. The water had helped a little bit.

Nesta laid down on the bed, feeling her hair fluff around her. She was on her back, looking up at the ceiling. As she let her eyes trace the silver pattern as she said, "I hate you." 

Cassian said nothing. She heard soft footsteps, then felt the bed compress under his weight. When she turned her head, she saw he was also laying on his back next to her, staring at the ceiling. 

She laughed at absolutely nothing. 

Cassian couldn't help but smile at that laugh. 

It was something he heard so rarely. In fact, he didn't think he had ever heard it.

Hearty and loud and real. 

He watched her frame shake with it, watched her eyes crinkle, and suddenly he was laughing too. 

There the two of them lay, side by side, laughing at nothing. The air. The emptiness of the room. 

Nesta tried but failed to control herself as she said, 

"The sex-" wheeze "- the sex was so bad, Cassian." She broke out into a second fit of laughter. 

Cassian lifted himself up onto his elbow, looked down at her, and said, "I know." 

Nesta lifted her hand to pat his head, once, twice, three times as she said. "I know you know." 

He looked confused. That only made Nesta laugh harder. 

"How do you know I know?" 

"It doesn't matter because now you know I know you know." 

Cassian couldn't hold back his own laugh. "What?" 

Nesta brought her hand back down and rested it on her aching stomach, closing her eyes and took a few deep breaths. 

She was getting more and more sober. And she honestly didn't mind it.

"Exactly." She sighed. 

Then she said, the room spinning slower and slower, "I don't hate you." 

She didn't look at him as she said, "I would really like to. Hating you would be so much easier."

Cassian asked, almost whispering, "Easier then what?"

Nesta hated that she responded, "Easier then loving you." 

Cassian wasn't sure he was breathing. Yet, somehow he found the air in his lungs to say, 

"I don't hate you either." 

Nesta dropped a pearl of laughter, and Cassian kept that in his heart. 

She tilted her head, the white light of the moon caressing her cheek. She looked at Cassian, still rumbling with a silent laughter, and he smiled. Even as she said, "Yes, you do. You hate me." 

He shook his head, a smile still on his face. She was still a bit drunk.

"No, Nesta, I don't hate you." 

She was sobering up, but not fast enough. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek as she laughed and said, "Oh, you broken little boy, thatsso cute." She squeezed his cheeks like a grandma for emphasis. 

Then she said, "Everyone hates me." 

She patted his cheek before retracting her hand, resting it back on her stomach. She was vaguely aware of Cassian laying his hand atop hers. He was still staring at her. 

Nesta thought that might be his favorite activity with how much he did it. 

"That's not true." He said, snapping her out of her head. 

She only chuckled a little at that, looking back up at the ceiling. "Even I hate me, Cassian." 

Nesta furrowed her brows, thinking, "Well, I guess you can't hate me. But if we weren't mates, I think you'd like to." giggle "Hate me, that is. I know I'd like to hate you if I could-" 

Cassian sprang up, interrupting Nesta's train of thoughts. 

She lazily lolled her head to the side, seeing his eyes wide with...something. 

"What?" Realization struck her in her ribs, and if she were sober she might have thrown up at what she just said. But she was still very drunk. So she burst with another round of that glorious laughter, and rolled to her side, now facing Cassian. 

"Is it because I said the 'm' word?" 

"I- um, well-" Cassian came around the bed, kneeling beside the bed where Nesta laid down, and she turned to face him as she spoke.

"It's just a word." giggle "You're scared of a damn word." giggle "I guess I am too."

"Nesta,-" 

"Shhhhhhh" Nesta drew out the sound for far to long. She laid her head on her hands and she faced Cassian, still kneeling on the bed. 

She smiled as she said, "I forgot we were trying to ignore the 'm' word. I can go back to fake-hating you now if you want." 

Cassian was just staring at her. Again. 

So Nesta sat up as she put an open hand on his face, pushing him back as she stood. As she began walking to the door, to her own room, she said to Cassian, "Stop doing that." 

But Cassian grabbed her hand by the wrist, holding her back. 

He looked up at her from where he was on the ground. He looked like a puppy. Nesta laughed again. 

Cassian smiled as he asked, "Stay?" 

Nesta was genuinely confused, but she still sat down in front of him on the floor. "I though we are still fake-hating each other?" 

Cassian still smiled, a sight that made Nesta so full and bright she thought she would burst, knowing that smile was for her- just for her. Maybe a drunk fool, but still for her. 

"Not tonight." He said. 

She pondered a moment. 

"Alright." She agreed. 

Then a pulsing in her stomach and throat told her tonight was going to be rough. 

She stood and ran to the bathroom, making it to the sink before the Maggot resurfaced. It burned like Helfire, springing tears to her eyes. 

Cassian was there instantly, tying her hair back and grabbing toilet paper to wipe her mouth. 

And there, in the bathroom, they spent the next three hours. 

It was every two minutes, then every 7, then 15, then 30, then it was over. And she was sober.

And each time, Cassian was right there, a hand on her back and a glass of cold water ready. He was there for her through the whole ordeal, and even went to her room to get her a change of clothes as she took a quick 'bath' thats only purpose was getting the green eyed stranger off her body. 

The idea she had ever wanted to go out and sleep with someone when Cassian was right here all night was absolutely ludicrous as she ran a toothbrush over her teeth the bathroom, waiting for him to return with a change of clothes. 

A light knock on the door let her know he was there . She stopped scrubbing her teeth and opened the door a crack to receive the clothes. 

An oversize deep purple undershirt greeted her hand. 

"Cassian?" She questioned.

She finished brushing her teeth, searched the shelves for something like mouthwash, gargled, and spat into the sink as she listened to Cassian.

"Your door was locked, and I shut your balcony when I left earlier. So, here." He pushed the shirt through the door, dropped it, and shut the door on his end. 

Though the shirt looked like it would go down to her lower thighs... she wasn't sure she was ready for Cassian to see truly how withered she was. She remember the sight that greeted her in the mirror earlier that night, the thin gangly creature she had become. 

Nesta sighed as she re-opened the door a bit and said into the cavernous room, "Do you have any pants?" 

She heard shuffling about the room, and suddenly a ball of cloth was thrown into the room, accompanying a, "Here you go!" from Cassian. 

Even sober, Nesta couldn't help but smile at that. It was nice, not hating each other. This truce reminded her that it was okay to be taken care of. It was okay to accept help, if only for a bit. A part of her, the coward in her wanted to break it, to build that wall, to jab at him and hurt him and deny what she had said. 

What she had said. 

Nesta had done some stupid things while she was drunk, but using the 'm' word around Cassian now topped the list. Where did they go from there? And tomorrow they left for an indefinite amount of time to be sequestered on a mountain side together? 

She almost groaned at the thought, dreading what tomorrow would bring as she finished pulling on the clothes Cassian gave her. 

Fuzzy and about three inches too long, the pants were clearly made for sleeping as they were loose and warm. She had to tighten the drawstring all the way and wrap it around her waist to make the pants fir. The shirt was an undershirt, still incredibly comfortable and soft. This would work for the night. 

She grabbed her jewelry and walked into the main room. She didn't say anything to Cassian as she went to the bed and slipped under the heavy covers, setting her jewelry onto the side table. The bed was heavenly, and Nesta was exhausted after a night of binge drinking, bad sex, and feeling to many feelings. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Cassian watched her as she practically floated to the bed. She looked stunning in his clothes, her tall stature overthrown by how big the clothes looked on her. 

She flopped down on the bed, burrowing underneath the covers. 

And then Cassian realized that Nesta planned to sleep there. In his room. In his bed. With him. 

Cassian knew this had to be a dream. 

But as he watched Nesta's form in his bed rise and fall with her breaths, he realized that this was real. 

His heart was heavy. 

She was so much worse off then anyone knew. She went to that tavern almost every night. He bet she didn't even know 'bad sex' guys name. And she had thrown up for hours. 

His world wrenched thinking about how many times she had to go through that alone, hunching over the toilet knowing that she would have no one to care for her. 

Then and there, Cassian vowed to never let her feel that way again. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to be there for her, every time. 

Even if she fake-hated him. 

Where were they supposed to go from here? Nesta had drunkenly admitted...

Nesta admitted that she not only didn't hate him, but that she knew they were mates. That her ferocity, her coldness, her anger was all a front. 

And she almost- almost- admitted that she loved him. 

Cassian didn't understand why Nesta fought it. Why she had to be so stubbornly independent as to repress the bond just to spite him. 

Easier then what? 

Easier then loving you.

Cassian pulled his shirt off and changed his pants. He slowly stepped up the platform and crawled into bed. 

Nesta didn't move. 

So gently, Cassian brought an arm around her and pulled Nesta to his chest. 

She stirred, breathing deeply, and flipped herself around to she was facing him. 

Her grey eyes met his, not icy or cold, but open and foggy after having been pulled from her sleep. She gave him a small smile. 

He reminded himself to draw that later. 

Then, Nesta snuggled her head under Cassian's chin, wrapping her arms around his bare torso. Her hands were cold against his skin, raising goosebumps. 

He tightened his arms around her. 

Nesta kissed his shoulder and murmured into his skin, "Thank you." 

And then she was asleep. 

Cassian stayed up for a good hour. Savoring every second of the feeling. 

The feeling of her breath on his neck. Love.

The feeling of his arms around her, one hand gently stroking her hair. Love.

The feeling of her legs tangled in his, feeling his heat leech into her. Love.

The feeling of Nesta at peace. That was the feeling he savored. Love.

She deserved this. She deserved to be happy each night. Love.

All he wanted in his 500 years of existence was to be the one to give her that.

Yet, as he fell asleep with his mate slumbering in his arms under the silver light of the moon, he knew this peace would not last.


	12. Chapter 12- An Agreement

Cassian woke up before Nesta did. The sun streamed into the room like a banner, welcoming the day. 

At some point during the night they had switched positions, Nesta's back now against his chest. His forehead pressed against the back of her neck, his face buried in her hair. His arms were around her, one circling her waist and the other lay under her head acting as her pillow. Though that arm was asleep, pulsing as his circulation tried to push past the weight of Nesta's head, he didn't have any intention of moving it. 

Because Nesta had her hand in his, arms connected as they stretched before them on the bed.

Cassian breathed her in. Breathed in the moment. He had slept so soundly, not a single dream. Just a dead heavy sleep, and waking up with Nesta still here...

This was how it should be. This was how their life should have gone- how it still could go. 

The bond was golden like the morning, lazily thrumming with that shared energy and power and a simplicity that he hadn't felt before. 

He felt his arm rise on her waist with every breath. He felt that breath caress his arm. 

Cassian's mind was so clear. So serene.

He smiled in her hair, placing a small kiss on the back of her neck. Then another.

He knew the second she woke up she would be pissy and crude and 'hate' him again. It would hurt. Probably more then it usually did. 

Today would be challenging. The day ahead would be filled with insults flung toward her, men of a species she despised spitting words at her. It would be filled with anger and pain down that bond, going both ways. He would have to go through it all and not say a word, even when his heart screamed at wanting to defend her. He would have to feel that pain she tried so hard to hide, and then he would have to face the reality that she was going to retreat to her single tent sad, beaten down, and alone. 

But for now, she was still asleep, and he could pretend that the reality wasn't going to happen. He could pretend that they were asleep in their own bed, in their own house, and when she woke up she would roll over and kiss him good morning. 

Cassian closed his eyes, pulled Nesta tighter, and simply rested there. He kissed the back of her neck once more, letting his lips linger there, living in the moment of peace and bliss. 

And then Nesta shifted, drawing a harsh breath, kicking her legs and flailing in the sheets.

Nesta began to wail, as if someone had ran her through with a hot fire poker. 

________________________________________________________________________________

DELICIOUS 

PLEASE STOP, JUST FUCKING STOP

YOU HAVE TAKEN FROM ME 

I'M BEGGING YOU

SO I WILL TAKE FROM YOU 

I WILL DO ANYTHING

ANYTHING

IT IS TO LATE NOW. IT IS DONE.

YOU MAY HAVE DEATH, SPITFIRE. BUT I HAVE HIM. 

"Nesta!" 

Her eyes flew open, only to find two pools of honey and chocolate above her. She struggled, she needed up and out and away-

A warm hand on her cheek. A caress down something deep inside of her.

Her vision focused. She was in his room. She was safe. 

Cassian hovered above her. 

He was safe. 

His hair was loose and wavy and smelled of a wildfire around her, and his thumb caressed her cheek as he stared at her. 

Slowly, she came back into the room. 

Only a nightmare. 

"Nesta?" Cassian questioned, his voice grumbly with the morning, thick with worry. 

His other arm was around her waist, pulling her body up toward his. He had settled between her legs, assumedly in an attempt to stop her from kicking him. 

"Yeah..." She took a breath. She couldn't look away from him, but she also felt sick at the care in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm here..." Another breath, "I..." 

Easier then what?

Easier then loving you. 

Suddenly, the night before came swarming back to her, stinging her as if she had provoked a bee hive. 

He had cared for her. All night. Gave her his clothes, held her hair while she retched, wiped her mouth clean. They had slept in the same bed, and she could tell by his proximity and open intimacy that they had held each other though the night.

She had used the 'm' word. 

He knew she knew. 

Nesta suddenly couldn't breath. Not this close to him. 

She brought her own hand up to his bare shoulder and shoved him off of her. 

"Stop." 

She slid out from under the covers and threw her legs off the bed. 

"What?" 

"I said-" 

"No, Nesta I heard what you said, but you were screaming bloody murder-" 

She felt his hand press against her back. She let it enrage her. So what that she had admitted that hatred was fake. He faked it just as well as she did. 

Nesta whirled around and pinned his hand to the bed, finding her face only inches from Cassians. 

"Do not-" She spat- "touch me." 

She really tried to ignore the silver that began to line his eyes. The stinging of tears that threatened to line her own.

She tried to ignore the feeling on his clothes on her skin. Tried to block the smell of him that was lingering on every inch of her from the night before. 

The urge to crawl back into bed, to be with him, to just give up this act was so strong. It physically pained her to turn away from him and stand from the bed. She grabbed her jewelry from the nightstand and began putting it on as she walked away.

Cassian's voice, sharp and contrasting to the pain she had just seen on his face, stopped her from leaving the room. 

"What is your problem with me?" 

She didn't turn, but she heard him stand from the bed. 

"I try, Nesta, I really try-" 

Nesta whirled around, retorting, "Try to what? Piss me off?" 

Cassian scoffed, "No! I'm trying to toe this line in the sand you've drawn. I've tried to keep my distance like you wanted me to." 

She stalked forward as she spat, "You've been doing a shitty job." 

Cassian advanced on her with an equal ferocity and anger. "You have been doing a shitty job." 

"And what is that supposed to mean? You were the one who broke into my apartment. You were the one who flew me up here last night. I never asked you to help me." Nesta said, lifting her chin. 

She suddenly felt very small as he cocked his head and looked down at her and said, 

"And you were the one who kissed me on that beach. You were the one who admitted we're mates." 

Nesta almost gasped, bile rising in her throat at the memory of the night and at the pain that he flung toward her in those words. She had. She had ruined everything. She always did. 

"Stop." She said, stumbling away. Giving up. The ground felt like quicksand.

"Nesta, I can't. I-" 

"Stop, Cassian." She turned away from him.

"I love you, Nesta. I don't care how many times you spit on me, how many times you break me. No matter what you do." 

Her eyes were screwed shut, trying but failing to hold back the hot and heavy tears that slid down her cheeks. She brought up her hands to her face, covering it. The hope lingering in his words cut her like a knife. 

She said quietly, "Cassian." 

"I'm scared too." She could feel him, hear his feet as he approached behind her. Felt the warmth from his chest as he stood only inches from her. 

His voice was quiet, careful as he spoke right in her ear. Just for her to hear. 

"I'm scared to feel this much. It scares me that all these centuries I didn't even know what my hands were for until I held yours. And I knew that instant why my hands had been formed." 

He slid his hands up her arms, warm and strong and sure, and he pulled her hands from her face. She could feel his chin rest on her shoulder as they both looked down at their hands. Cassian's hands rested against the backs of her own, and he intertwined their fingers. 

"Every inch of me was formed for you, Nesta. For this. My spine was made to bow for you." 

Cassian took a deep breath, then huffed a small laugh. "And that scares the shit out of me."

He kissed her shoulder as he continued. "It scares me that everything I thought I knew about the world changed the second I saw you. It scares me the things I would do, the lengths I'd be willing to go for you." 

Nesta could picture it. The life they could have. This, every morning and night. She could kiss him unashamed whenever she wanted. She could be rid of the wall she always held firm. She could let that bond grow into the beautiful shining thing they both knew it could be. 

"My heart beats only for you." 

He squeezed her hands for emphasis.

"And I would rip it out to prove it."

YOU HAVE TAKEN FROM ME, SO I WILL TAKE FROM YOU. 

"So, if you want to go back to 'fake hating' we c-" 

"What do you want from me?" Nesta said meekly, practically whispering. 

Cassian lifted his head from her shoulder. "What?" 

Nesta was scared. Not of anything he had said, not of her feelings. She was scared because Cassian had just admitted he would die for her. The darkness inside her wanted him to. 

She threw their hands down, ripping her hand away from his as if it was boiling water. She whirled around, staring him down. 

"What do you want from me." 

Cassian only stared at her. He didn't understand. No one did.

No one will ever understand you. No one ever can. 

She raged, she screamed at him, she rammed her hands into his chest sobbing as she screamed, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" 

He let her, let every impact hit. 

"Do you want me to fuck you? Is that it?" She felt the tears stream and burn and she shoved him back, his back hitting the bed post. 

Cassians face sprang to life in anger and frustration and pain. "Nes-"

"No, you've said your peace. Do you want me to pretend like I'm ready for that?"

She took a step back, the truth rolling off her tongue before could stop it. 

"I'm not! I'm horrified of this! I'm not going to pretend I'm ready for this just so you can appease whatever fantasy you have in your head of us living any kind of happy life together." 

She was suddenly very hot and very mad. Not at Cassian. Never really at him. At herself, at letting it get this far, at letting it go this badly. 

"It's never going to happen. Not with me. Never with me. It's never going to happen. It can't happen." She scrambled for the words as she ran a hand across her face. 

"You want honesty? Transparency? Fine. If we had gone even a second longer on that beach, I would have killed you." 

Nesta wasn't breathing as she continued. 

"I would have exploded and the hideous person I really am would have torn you to pieces and slaughtered you right then and there." 

He recoiled at that. Good. He needed to see this, needed to know this monster. 

"That's what my nightmare was. I was out of my body and I was watching myself give in to that darkness and magic. I was watching myself rip you apart and I could do nothing- there was s-so much blood, Cassian, everywhere I couldn't d-do a fucking thing as I watched it happen!" 

She was hyperventilating and screaming and sobbing and it hurt.

"You died! I tore you to pieces with my bare hands! I watched you die, Cassian!" 

She couldn't breath remembering the horror she had seen in her dream.

"That is what will happen, Cassian, if I even think about trying to live a happy life with you. That is how our story ends. There will be no happiness for us."

She was a sick, twisted monster who deserved nothing and no one good in her life. 

Cassian tried to reach for her but she stepped back. 

"I said I hated you and I meant it. It would be easier for us both to believe I meant it." 

The pleading in his voice almost broke her as he said, "I don't believe you."

She looked at him once more, letting herself take in everything about him in this moment. Another moment she would have to destroy him, eviscerate his heart in an attempt to keep him alive. She let that honesty into her words. 

Backing up until her hand hit the doorknob, she let her face show, let her truth lay bare before him. 

"I would rather hate you alive then try to love you dead. I can't let you die, Cassian. I just can't." 

His face was wet, she could see from here. 

Even through the pain clouding the bond, the tortured souls connected recognized what it meant. To be together was death. To be apart was torture. 

So the best thing was to try to forget it entirely. The realization hit both of them at once. 

Cassian was the first to speak, and he poured so much love into the words he spoke. 

"I wish we had never met, Nesta Archeron." 

Something like understanding now flowed through that rope, the acknowledgment of a mutual agreement. 

A small sob escaped Cassian, but he still looked at her. Somehow, he still had hope in his eyes. 

Nesta would never forgive herself for turning away from him, turning the handle, and like signing on a dotted line, she closed the door behind her.

She crossed the hallway to her own room and entered. 

As she closed the door behind her, she decided she would only give herself one minute.

60 seconds. 

She leaned back against the white door and let out a sob so hard it threw her body to the ground.

60....59....58....

On her hands and knees, she leaned forward until her forehand touched the ground. Her head was to heavy. Her mouth hung open, the silent scream echoing in her mind, her heart, her soul.

45...44...43...

Her chest heaved, the air thin and fragile. Her abdomen pulsed and throbbed with the quiet sobs. If she was too loud, she knew Cassian would come. She knew the entire argument, their agreement would mean nothing to him if he knew she was crying.

He was probably crying too. 

30...29...28...

She pounded her fists against the ground. She ripped his shirt off her, tore away his pants, got him off of her. She destroyed the room. Every inch. She clawed at the walls until her fingernails were bloody. She tore down the curtains, then threw the fabric off the balcony. All the while, she never made a sound. 

15...14...13...

She didn't deserve to be happy. She was a piece of shit, a human piss rag, born to die and be forgotten. She treated those she loved as if they were nuisances not because she hated them or wanted them gone but because to be in love with her was to be in love with fire. 

It raged, it was uncontrollable, it was unpredictable. It was dangerous and it will hurt you. 

She didn't deserve to be happy. But Cassian did. She would let him. She would let him find someone who could give him what he needed. It would destroy her. 

3...

But she would let him go. 

2....

Because you make sacrifices for those you love. 

1...

Nesta give herself one last sob, one last tear, one last deep breath, and then she rose.


	13. Chapter 13- An Arrival

She cleaned the room as best she could. The shredded wallpaper and torn curtains she could do nothing about, though.

She packed, her bags from her apartment having magically found their way to her room. She packed the makeshift top she salvaged from the dress Elain gave her. 

She picked a few soaps and washes from the bathroom and shoved them into the tote. She chose her dark green dress to wear today, simple and easy. The dress came in at the waist with a plain beaded belt, then ran down her body like water. It did not hug any of her body, did not show the skeleton she had become. The neckline was high, landing just above her collar bones in a lovely sheer lace. The sleeves were that same lace, closing around her wrists with a single silver bead. 

She brushed her hair out and twisted it up, using a silver clip she found in the bathroom to secure it. She did not look at herself in the mirror as she exited the bathroom. 

She rummaged through the lavish dressing room, filing through the clothes until she found a beautiful dark silver cloak that reached past her feet, dragging a few inches on the floor behind her. It was simple as well, with some embroidering on the hemlines and around the neck clasp. With that, she decided she was satisfied.

She did not look back at the room as she opened the white door and closed it with a click behind her. 

________________________________________________________________________________

He didn't taste the cinnamon raisin bread as it went down his throat. He was sitting around the kitchen counter with Az and Elain and he didn't hear their laughter as he finished his breakfast. 

Az was saying something about the garden, how much he was learning. He hated that pang he felt whenever his brother and Elain shared a secret glance at each other or a sly brush of their hands.

He looked down at his plate. He suddenly was not hungry. He stood, bringing his plate to the sink and thanking Az and Elain for making the bread. 

"I'm just going to finish getting ready for today." He sighed.

He said nothing to his brother as he turned to leave the kitchen, but Elain-already muddy from the garden at 8am- stepped in his way.

"Are you forgetting anything?" She smiled like one of her blossoms. 

That did draw a small smile from him as well, as he leaned down and kissed Elain on the cheek. Part of their morning routine.

But just as he was pulling away, Elain cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. 

She was small in stature, but when she needed to be she was just as powerful as anyone in the Night Court. 

She furrowed her brows at him, clearly displeased at something. Just as he was sucking in the air to say something, Elain's eyes turned sad and distant. 

"She hurt you, didn't she, Cassian?" Elain said, with an understanding that broke his heart.

There was absolutely no point in lying to her. So he said plainly, "Yes. She did." 

Elain looked up as if recalling something, a memory long forgotten. Then she smiled gently, a pained smile that was so full of understanding and honestly that he knew she had experienced it too. 

"Don't worry." She patted his cheek a bit before reaching on to her tipy-toes to kiss his cheek. 

When she pulled away, her smile had turned painful. 

"She only hurts the people she loves."

Cassian nodded. "Yes. She does." 

Elain patted his cheek and stepped out of his way. As he left the kitchen he could hear Az whispering to Elain, likely trying to figure out how Nesta had hurt Elain and how he could make her pay for it. Not matter what happened with him and Nesta, Cassian would always feel the pain in his heart for his brother who was now so deeply in love with someone else's mate. 

He shook his head to himself as he walked. The absolute absurdity of it all. Two of the most dangerous Illyrian males in existence and both of them were having girl problems. Typical. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Nesta lugged her bags down the stairs, trying not to heave to loudly as the bag felt 10x heavier then she remembered. When she rounded the bend in the spiral staircase, Rhysand was standing in the main entrance, and he bound up the stairs to help her with her bag. 

She allowed him, if only because her fingers were cramping. 

"Morning." He spoke, tense and tight. 

No, today would not be easy for any of them. 

She nodded at him, then at Feyre by way of greeting where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. 

Feyre went right to business. 

"I'm sorry, Nesta, but the easiest way is to winnow into Windhaven." 

At the mention of the name, all those memories came back. The constant howl of the wind through the trees, the bustle of men training. She remember how sad all the women looked. 

She almost smiled at the memory of making nine full grown Illyrian men shrink back. 

Witch. 

They had called her. Another name to add to the list. Another truth that she had to face. 

Nesta nodded at her sister. "That won't be the worst part of the day." She said, before feeling a darkness enter the room. 

They all turned to see Azriel, the male made of shadows, enter the room, Cassian right behind him. 

She did not meet his eyes, nor did she feel his stare. 

"Alright," Feyre said, "Rhys will take Nesta and I, Az you take Cassian and the bags." 

The male nodded and picked up the bags that had been piled on the floor, handing two to Cassian and keeping two himself. Nesta did not fail to notice Cassian reached for her bag before Azriel even offered it. 

Feyre put a gentle hand on Nesta's shoulder. 

"The welcome will be just as warm as last time. Be ready" She said, and Nesta murmured a response. 

"Maybe worse, depending on if they realize..." Rhysand trailed off and looked pointedly and Nesta's hand, where her ring sat. 

Where her Siphon sat. If they hated her before, they would detest her now. 

"I'll be fine. I just-" She could already feel the twist in her gut from the last time she winnowed anywhere. 

"Let's just get it over with." Nesta finished. 

Rhysand looked at Feyre, who nodded, then turned and nodded at the other two winged males. Before she could think to prepare herself, Rhysands arm was linked through hers, and they were traveling through a labyrinth of darkness. 

________________________________________________________________________________

To her credit, Nesta did not retch when they appeared in the forest. White in the face, she stumbled, brought a hand to her mouth, took a breath, swallowed, and then was the first to march off to get to camp. 

She was going the wrong way, but Cassian admired her enthusiasm. 

When they exited the woods, the camp entrance loomed before them, more intimidating then the sharp mountain peaks that surrounded the camp itself. There was a dark figure awaiting them, and Cassian knew that it was Devlon. 

While Devlon was a terror, he was also one of the more hospitable War Lords, and Cassian could only hope that he could let Nesta live in peace here as she hoped. 

Rhys led the group then, hands in his pockets and cool exterior up as they approached. 

Devlon gave a small bow, barely bending at the waist but still lowering his eyes, before he straightened and said, "My Lord. We've been expecting you." 

Rhys barely gave a nod before, placing an arm around Feyre's shoulders. 

"Lord and Lady, Devlon. I will not correct you again." He said, already clearly pissed off by this. 

Devlon, to his credit, did seem to have genuinely forgotten as his eyes widened and he payed Feyre the same lame bow he had given Rhys. 

"My enteral apologies, My Lady. We are still getting used to this new leadership dynamic." 

Feyre said, sharp and cold, "You are still getting used to this leadership dynamic, and I will expect those eternal apologies each time I visit you, Devlon." 

She waved her arm toward the camp, a silent signal, and Devlon gritted his teeth but said nothing and he led them through the camp. 

The new 'leadership dynamic' he was referring to was a tag team effort by the High Lady and Lord that had him losing every time, and he couldn't stand that. It was so fun to watch Feyre and Rhys hit him back and forth like a ball, endlessly entertaining to watch Devlon try to get his feet back under himself.

Devlon hadn't said a word- hadn't even looked in Nesta's direction. The War Lord had eyed both himself and Az, but they weren't to expect the same greeting the high lord and lady should expect. 

As they passed the Illyrians, though, a different narrative arose. As they walked through camp, Illyrians would stop to bow and pay respect to Feyre and Rhys, and then recoil at the sight of Nesta. Women would greet Feyre, ask to kiss her hand, yet all of them would immideatly step away and quickly venture back into their tents at the sight of Nesta. 

She did not look particularly threatening today. Though, she was always dangerous, and Cassian would be a fool to forget that. They all would.

No, the green she wore was not a scary color, nor was the grey cloak she layered above that so detestable it would send people running. 

It was not the clothes she wore that made Nesta powerful. It was Nesta herself, and she knew it.

Her chin was lifted, as if she bore a crown. Her eyebrows were arched pulled back, a permanent wrath plastered on her face. The mask she loved to wear the most. 

She looked like a snow wraith, the grey cloak blending into the monochrome mountains. 

He couldn't bear to see the emptiness in her eyes. It paired to well with the rest of her demeanor. 

As they walked through the camp, many Illyrians also made the sign warding off evil. They closed their hands in fists and brought their thumbs against their cheek bones, pulling their hands forward joining the thumbs in front of their face. They brought the flat of their thumbs to their forehead, setting the intention to abolish the evil. Then, lifting their hands up to the heavens to gather the light and lowering their hands to abolish the evil, they fled back into their tents. 

Just as they had done when they first saw her all those months ago.

Witch, they had called her. And she had agreed.

Cassian could only assume that gave Nesta some sick satisfactions. 

"How has the females training been going?" Rhys asked Devlon, arm in arm with Feyre.

Devlon responded, "It's going well, the three promising candidates are shaping up. As I have said before though, training is difficult to fit into their daily schedule." 

They entered the main structure of the camp, a large stone cabin lit by two fireplaces. The space would have actually been quite warm and inviting were it not for the weaponry and animal heads on the walls. 

Aside from the violent decor, there was bookshelves filled with what Cassian knew were strategies and history and lessons and records. He also knew that the twelve-foot long table in the center of the room was carved from a specific species of conifer tree only found at the foot of the Ramiel mountain- the mountain of the Blood Rite. 

Yes, this room held many memories for Cassian and his brothers.

Soon, many for Nesta as well.

Someone sat a the table, their long brown hair pulled together in a ponytail that cascaded down the back of the chair. It was the all white clothing that made Cassian catch his breath. 

This was Jaida. He hadn't seen Jaida in years.

Jaida was a prominent figure in Cassian's memory. Only about 200 when she helped care for him, she had since grown into a camp mother, fostering those who had no one else. She was to thank for his survival before Rhys brought him into his own home. She had done the same for Az when he first showed up.

She had given him what little food and clothing she had, and for that Cassian would be forever greatful. 

Unfortunately, Devlon seemed more inclined to treat her kindness as a reason to argue what he thought the females duty was rather then rewarding her for her service to the Illyrians. 

At seven hundred and thirty years old, she was still as enchanting as ever. As she stood to greet them, Cassian looked at the female, and realized how much he had missed her. 

She was short, like almost all the Illyrian due to starving to stave off the bleeding. It stunted their growth, and because of that Jaida stood more then a foot shorter then himself. As she stood her simple white dress fell two inches above the floor. She had a white shawl draped around her shoulders that was tucked into a white corset at her waist. She wasn't thin, but rather sturdy- a body formed by years of hard labor. The Illyrians didn't truly understand that the chores the females did were a workout in themselves. Her brown eyes were gentle though, as she floated his way.

"Darling, Cassian." Her voice was that of a butterfly's wings, soft and light and ethereal. Cassian felt Az step up beside him, both in awe seeing the female who had saved their lives.

"Dearest, Azriel." She clasped one of their hands in her own. He was not surprised to find them rough with years of work.

"It is simply enchanting to see you both, dear boys." Jaida spoke as if in a fairy tale, and Cassian had always loved that. 

Cassian did not hold back his smile as he replied, "It's been too long, Jaida." 

Cassian had always thought she was an angel or a goddess of some kind for how she always wore white. She also somehow never managed to get it dirty, although if Cassian had remembered correctly, Jaida was in charge of laundry for the entire Windhaven camp. She had numerous responsibilities like that, overseeing several different chore duties. 

She smiled up at him, turning her attention to the High Lady and Lord stepping inside behind him. 

Cassian and Az stepped to the side as Jaida grabbed her skirt and gave a light curtsy, but that same love and pride for Cassian and Az shown in her eyes for Rhys. She had watched him grow and overcome and now he was changing their world. 

She came back up, taking Rhys's hand the way she had Cassians's and Az's.

"My Lord." She said simply. 

But when she turned to Feyre, her smile was radiant. Feyre probably had no idea who this woman was, but to her credit she was smiling right back at her.

Jaida bowed again to Feyre, then when she stood back up- several inches shorter then Feyre, even- Jaida took Feyre's hand. 

She placed a light kiss on the back of it, before holding it tightly with both of her own. 

"It is an honor to welcome you to Windhaven, Your Grace. I speak on behalf of all Illyrian females- you have our complete allegiance and pride." 

Feyre's eyes were wide as she responded, "Thank you, Jaida." 

She added, "Should you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to send for me."

Again, Feyre beamed and nodded her head in thanks. Cassian supposed this was the first time Feyre was greeted pleasantly as a High Lady. Every other greeting had been pompous ignorant males angered by the change in tradition. 

The smile on Feyre's face told Cassian that his High Lady would send for Jaida, if for nothing but conversation.

Any orphaned children, male or female, went to Jaida to care for. As it happened, most of the misfits and outcasts wandered her way as well, and she had no qualm in caring for them. 

Which is probably the exact reason she was here to greet Nesta. 

Oh, Dark Hel this would be interesting. 

Cassian watched, in amusement and horror, as Nesta stepped through the door.

________________________________________________________________________________

Nesta watched as the angel floated toward her.

This woman- female- had addressed all the males in the room by name and familiarity, completely ignored Devlon, praised Feyre, and now this ethereal being closed the distance between them. 

"You must be Nesta." She said, and suddenly Nesta had no words. It was as if just being near this deity made her feel lighter, happier, sharpened her focus. She smelled of butterscotch and baked bread.

Her voice was weak as she replied, "I am." 

The female smiled, the only person who had smiled at her since coming to the camp. Everyone had been repelled by her, signed against evil as she passed by. Scampered out of her way, pulled children into their homes. 

She had bared it all. Would bear it all in the following months. She knew that was what would happen when she came here. She would not admit to herself that it cut her to her core. It burned her in ways nothing ever would. She was not evil. 

Cruel, monster, disgusting, creature- she was all of those things. But she was not evil. 

And with only four words this white-clad female had all but convinced Nesta to tell her whole life story, let every thing out. Something told Nesta that if she did breakdown this very moment, this woman would sit down at the table with her until she was done. 

"My name is Jaida. You will be staying in a cottage right by me so if you need anything, darling, just stop by." 

Nesta hadn't realized it, but everyone had taken seats at the large table. She hadn't even taken in the room, only staring at Jaida. Now, she looked around as Jaida took her hand and led her toward the table. 

Normally, Nesta would rip her hand from the grip of a stranger, but something in her secretly loved the contact with the pure being. If something so pure and bright would touch her, surely she couldn't be evil. 

Right? 

Nesta sat down in a seat across from Cassian and next to Jaida. At the head of the table, two chairs next to one another, sat Feyre and Rhysand. Seated to the right was Azriel, to the left Devlon. Next to the shadow, Cassian. Next to Devlon, Jaida. Then herself. 

Nesta could not help but feel ganged up on. 

Still, she held her head up high, took a deep breath, settled into her seat. 

Feyre spoke first. "Devlon, you've arranged a living space?"

Devlon nodded, turning his back to both Jaida and Nesta to face Feyre. 

"Yes," He said with a sigh, as if it pained him to expend the energy talking about this.

"She will be staying on the west side of camp. I have also written up her daily chore schedule." He said, a parchment appearing from under his jacket. He went to hand it to Rhysand, who eyed the paper as if it were poisoned. He took it, handed it to Feyre, who then slid it across the table right in front of Nesta. 

Her hands were still folded in her lap, but looking over the paper in front of her, it was scrawled with locations and times and words that sealed her fate. Her eyes blurred, rejecting the future in the paper before her. This would be her life. 

Cassian spoke up, his voice hammering a nail into her heart. "Her training is there as well?" 

No connection, no emotion, a general speaking to an inferior. 

Devlon turned and look at Cassian, replying "Of course." 

Just as Nesta worked up the courage to pick up the paper, Cassian had reached over the table and pulled it away from her. 

Devlon paled a bit. "General-" 

"According to this, she's only training for a half hour once a week." Cassian said, clearly toward Feyre and Rhys. 

Rhys snapped his vision to Devlon, something dark lingering there. "How often do the females usually train?" 

The warlord swallowed before responding. "A half hour each day." Nesta noticed he wasn't looking at the High Lady when replying, rather the High Lord. He hadn't addressed Feyre once this entire conversation.

Rhys shifted that glare to Jaida and he asked, "Is this true?" 

Devlon startled, scoffing at the obvious distrust."My lord, I've just told y-"

"The females can count themselves lucky to get an hour of training a week, my lord." She spoke with that same lightness, yet a drip of satisfaction rolled off her tongue and into the words.

Devlon pushed his chair back, pointing an accusatory finger at Jaida. 

"She lies! She knows nothing of the female's training." He turned away from Jaida and back toward Rhys, rising to his feet. 

"I assure you My Lord, the witch will get-" 

Devlon stopped talking, cutting himself off with pained breaths and whimpers.

As he sat, Feyre stood, eyes trained on the cowering man. 

"That witch shares my blood. Your words reckless and defamatory, Devlon. You have lied about the females training before, you have lied about the clipping before, you lie about this now." Feyre pushed whatever power she was using over Devlon harder, causing the man to cry out, and then she let go. 

His body relaxed in his chair, his head in his hands as he recovered from whatever Feyre had done. Nesta gaped at her sister. Never, never had she seen Feyre genuinely use that power on someone. 

No one spoke, but all of those she had traveled with had a secret smug look on their faces. Yes, Devlon had this coming. Yet, Nesta could not help but wonder if those actions would have consequences.

Feyre sat back down. 

"So, starting now, each time you tell me a blatant lie, I'm going to check in your mind to see." 

She smiled. Nesta almost shivered. 

"I would suggest, to avoid all this drama, simply don't lie to your High Lady. Does that seem...reasonable?" 

Devlon had composed himself, sitting upright in his chair. Nesta could not see his face, but she could almost feel the absolute rage pouring off of him. He nodded.

Oh, yes, that would have consequences.

"If I may, my Lady," Jaida butt in, "I would love to show Nesta around the camp and introduce her to some of the other females?" 

Feyre's eyes softened, a complete turn around from the death glare she was giving Devlon. 

"Of course, Jaida. Cassian with accompany you as well." At that, Nesta had to hold every inch of herself in not to snap her eyes toward Cassian. 

She could tell, though, that his self control was not as tight, as his head turned to look at her. 

Jaida, nodded and stood, brushing a hand on Nesta's shoulder as she bowed to Rhysand and Feyre at the head of the table. 

Then, turning to face Nesta, the angel of a female said, "Come, darling." 

Nesta didn't know if she'd ever heard a voice so beautiful. 

She nodded and rose from her chair just as Cassian did. She couldn't help but walk quickly toward to door to avoid being near him. She followed Jaida out the door, hearing Cassian close the door behind them. 

With Cassian trailing behind, Jaida began the walking tour of Nesta's new home. 

OC Jaida by- @ jaidatrotter :)


	14. Chapter 14- Home

Jaida knew Nesta Archeron would be difficult to handle. Though what little information Devlon had given her about the girl was all negative, she hadn't seemed so evil when they had first met. 

She felt Cassians presence behind her as she led the so-called witch through the camp. While she explained the important things- training locations, the small library, the marketplace- Jaida could tell she wasn't listening. Her eyes were wide and sharp, like that of a cornered animal. She moved with a cautiousness and withdrawal that Jaida had rarely seen before. Nesta seemed like the kind of person who prided herself on seeming unreadable, but if you knew the language she truly was just an open book. 

And Jaida had more practice then most at learning someone's language. 

For example, Nesta's high chin and even higher arched brow was supposed to tell the world to stay away and not to mess with her. However, Jaida knew that it truly was a front with the purpose of giving herself the distance to aquatint herself with her new environment. If she played the part of the evil witch everyone thought she was, it would give her time away from people to wrap her mind around this drastic life change. 

The steady crunching of boots on the gravel path behind them, though, told Jaida that Nesta would not truly be alone while she was here. 

Jaida took pride in her 500 years of helping others. She had seen many a wedding, many mated pairs in that time. 

Cassian and Nesta, however? That may be the most tragic love Jaida had seen in all that time. 

It was not unnoticed, his care and attention to her and her schedule in the meeting. Nor was the glow in his eye unnoticed as she had introduced herself to Nesta. Yes, this romance would turn out to be a special one. 

Jaida, for one, could not wait. 

They were walking through the marketplace in the main square, stopping at what few stands that hadn't fled at the sight of Nesta, when there was a shouting in the small tavern at the end of the walkway. 

Cassian huffed a laugh behind them. Jaida turned and shared a knowing smile with the male. 

Nesta didn't miss a beat. 

"What's going-"

The doors flew open, and the familiar sight of bouncing blonde curls and a red angry face practically flew out the doors, shouting obscenities as she went. Rosie.

"NO, you tell that rat bastard if he cheats again I'll cut his balls off with his own sword!" 

Another female, long dark brown braid flowing behind her as she rushed out, grabbed Rosie's arm and continued walking, pulling the female away from the tavern and the roar of laughter inside it. Sera.

Still, Rosie continued, "NOT THAT HE HAD ANY BALLS TO BEGIN WITH!" before the doors of the tavern slammed shut. 

Cassian stepped past Jaida and Nesta- putting his hands on Nesta's shoulders as he stepped by her- walking toward the two females now bickering about whatever had just occurred.

Though she said nothing, Jaida could practically hear the question in Nesta's head. So, she answered. 

"The small angry blonde is Rosa, she goes by Rosie." Nesta turned toward Jaida, eyes still on the three ahead of them, Cassian having joined in the bickering. Jaida continued to explain as she watched Cassian throw his arms up in exasperation. 

"Rosie is one of several promising warriors in the Generals' training regiment. She is..." Jaida sighed. "She is quite hotheaded. Maybe that's why she's a good fighter." 

Jaida shifted her attention to the other femlae, same in size but built more slight and straight then Rosie, and said to Nesta, "That is Serafina, but she prefers Sera. She's very good at helping Rosie get out of trouble." 

"Though she's also quite good at getting Rosie and herself into it." Jaida finished, more to Nesta then to herself. 

"Come, " She turned to Nesta. "Let me introduce you." 

She put a gentle hand on Nesta's elbow and began leading her toward the two females. This would be the true test of if Jaida knew Nesta's language or not. 

But Jaida wasn't worried. She had never been wrong before. 

___________________________________________________________________

Nesta had no idea how anyone could consider a place like Windhaven home. While it had the basic structure of a small village- a town square, a marketplace, residential areas, recreational areas- it was as cold a place as Nesta had ever been. She could tell that from the small portion of it she had seen. 

Other then the Illyrians cowering and signaling off evil and staring wherever they went, the unchanging grey sky and constant chill in the air made it feel desolate and haunted. The structures themselves were a mix of tents, stone, and even some on the outskirts of the settlement carved into the side of the mountain. Jaida had said that was where the healers and the blacksmiths dwelled. That seemed like an odd combination of people, but Nesta hadn't questioned further. 

The people were another story all together. Those who didn't run at first sight of her gave her a glare promising death. They had passed a group of running males, assumedly training, and all of them had puffed their chests and grabbed the hilt of their swords as they passed. She had heard the huff of wings expanding after they had passed, and didn't need to look back to know they had taken to the skies right after passing her. The pathetic attempt at intimidation did nothing to affect her though, especially knowing that Cassian was right behind her. 

She hated to admit it, but having him at her back made this 'tour' through Windhaven more bearable. Nesta also wouldn't admit that Jaida was growing on her, as the female not only walked past the males with her head high, but one of them had hit her with his shoulder, and Jaida had stopped him with a wave of her hand and given him a look of disapproval. From what Nesta understood, the female Illyrians were subservient, expected to keep their eyes down and deal with whatever abuse the males dealt. Which is why it had shocked and impressed her that Jaida had stopped that soldier. 

It was also why Nesta was completely dumbfounded at the small angry woman shouting threats at the men inside the tavern. 

She hadn't even spoken to the female, but Nesta decided she liked Rosie already. 

As they approached, Nesta heard a bit of the conversation the three Illyrians were having. 

"...could drink any of those dickless boot-lickers under the table any day. You of all people should know that, General!" Rosie was spatting at Cassian. 

His wings flaired slightly, a gesture meant to show offense. "It was one time, and you both promised never to discuss it. I am your commanding officer and I'm telling you, no more drinking games." 

The other female, Sera, chimed in just as Jaida and Nesta were closing in. 

"With all due respect, General, are all soldiers banned from drinking games?" She lifted her chin, ever so slightly. "Or just the women?" 

Cassian looked down at the small blonde again, arms crossed. "Neither. Just Rosie." 

Red in the face, Rosie took a breath to respond when Jaida but in. "If nothing else, Cassian dear, you should be glad that nothing has changed in your absence." 

Nesta would have held back the laugh that rose in her throat at Cassian's face, but the dead pan stare of the blonde ball of rage stopped the laugh from rising at all. Rosie was staring at her as if she had just murdered her family, with an anger and hatred that seeped into the air around the small female. 

Jaida noticed, as did the other two Illyrians, and the tension was palpable. Nesta was the first to speak. 

"Was it something I said?"Nesta asked, letting a fight drizzle over her words. She met Rosie's stare with an equaled vigor, unsure what she had done but ready to for the verbal spat she sensed coming. It was easy to feel assertive over the Illyrian, as Nesta stood a solid four inches taller. 

Before either of the females could utter a word to start a war though, Jaida said, "Rosie, Sera, this is Nesta Archeron. She is residing here for the time being. She will actually be staying in the cabin across from you, Sera, so I'm sure you'll be seeing each other quite often." 

Sera nodded, the bleak sky doing nothing to dim the glow of her caramel skin. "Welcome to Windhaven, Archeron." Sera held out a hand. 

Slowly, Nesta broke eye contact with Rosie, the dark brown eyes of the blonde female relenting at last, and Nesta took Sera's hand, giving a quick firm shake. As Nesta pulled her hand away, though, Sera held tight, pulling Nesta's arm toward her body. Nesta felt her balance shift, and she had to take a step to avoid falling into the female before her. 

Now almost face to face, Sera said, "We are so excited to have you here." 

Nesta only had a moment to be confused before Sera wretched her forward and stepped out of the way, causing Nesta to completely fall forward. Cassian's arm was around her waist immideatly, the only thing preventing Nesta from falling face first into the sharp gravel. 

Cassian pulled her up, removing his arm as soon as Nesta was back on her own two feet. Before Nesta could whirl around and confront them, the two Illyrian women were already walking away. Nesta couldn't help but notice that while Rosie's wings were clearly clipped, Sera's wings were tall and wide, flailed out behind her as she walked. 

Sera's wings weren't clipped. 

Nesta could admit now that she truly had no idea what the dynamic between the sexes was here at Windhaven. 

Nesta turned back to Jaida. 

"Are those two always that much fun, or did I just get special treatment?" She said, straightening her cloak around her. 

Jaida smiled to herself, a small thing that made Nesta furious. "No, they are always that much of a joy. Sometimes Rosie is more talkative. She's silent like that when she's..." Jaida gave a small glace to Cassian before she continued. "When she's had a bit to much to drink. A bad habit of hers, I'm afraid." 

At that, Nesta's anger receded. She knew what that was like. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that there may be females at Windhaven who were struggling with the same things she was. It seemed no matter where you were, the female experience was the same. Thinking of that took Nesta too far down a path she did not want to explore, so she turned back to Jaida. 

"Let's continue, then." 

Jaida nodded and began walking again, Nesta falling into step beside her and Cassian behind them. 

She hadn't looked at him, hadn't acknowledged him the entire time they'd been traveling though camp. Nesta had felt the bolt through the bond at the small moment of contact when he had caught her from falling, but she had gotten very good at blocking any and all interaction with that rope between them. While he kept his side wide open, she locked hers down tighter and tighter throughout the morning. Now, as Cassian kept pace behind them, Nesta feared she was all to comfortable with the feeling of him at her back, guarding her.

Jaida led them to the edge of camp, and the gravel path dwindled into grass. The stone buildings became fewer and fewer, and soon they came upon about 20 or so tents set up in a circular pattern, a large bonfire bit in the center. 

This was clearly an afterthought for the rest of the camp, clearly a place people paid little attention to. Still, Jadia was smiling as they arrived. 

"I know it doesn't look like much, " Jaida said as they stopped by the fire pit, "But this is home." 

"Home?" Nesta asked. She had though all of Windhaven was her home.

Jaida smiled. "Home. This is the space I've been creating for the last 500 years. Orphans, outcasts, " A knowing glace in Nesta's direction, "newcomers- this is home for all of them. For everyone." 

Cassian had stepped up beside Jaida, surveying the small tent city. 

"Thank you, Jaida. Without a place like this..." He looked down and shook his head. "I don't want to know what would have happened to these people without a place like this for them." 

Jaida put a steady hand on his shoulder, and Nesta couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and jealousy. 

This place, this sanctuary for the discarded, was where Nesta was to spend- how long? She had told Feyre she wasn't coming back, but could she really stay here for the rest of her life?

For an eternity? 

Her gut rolled, and suddenly even the open air felt hot and oppressive. She couldn't imagine an eternity here, or anywhere for that matter. Nesta was never supposed to have an eternity. Her father had barely been granted half a decade, her mother even less. How was she supposed to fill that void, that endless time? From her short encounters so far it was clear she would not be welcomed here, not be accepted. 

Some deep part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe, if she could find these Illyrian women she could be one of them. She could be happy here, maybe even see a future here. 

That hope was squandered. And so Nesta simply blocked out Jaida and Cassian as they discussed what this place once was, what it had grown into. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear how life had been tragic and now was only slightly less so. 

Her two companions had sat on the makeshift stone seats surrounding the fire pit. Nesta simply sat next to them, letting her eyes settle on a distant mountain top, and letting the numbness consume her.

OC Rosie by @lil_morton2004 

OC Sera by @writemypassion


	15. Chapter 15- In the Forest

"Nesta, are you listening?" 

She snapped her head up, away from the misty mountains sealing her fate. Nesta realized that Jaida had been talking to her. 

"Um.." She swiped a stray hair behind her ear. "No. I wasn't." 

She'd only been here an hour and she was already letting people down. 

Jaida, though, only smiled, moving to the stone seat next to Nesta. 

Cassian's eyes were trained on Nesta, but she ignored him. Despite the magnet behind her eyes that pulled them to him, she focused her attention on Jaida. She straightened the parchment and began again. 

"You're schedule is parallel to mine, at least for these first weeks, so I will be here for you every step of the way." 

Nesta scanned the paper, eyes swimming in a sea of words like cooking and cleaning and nursery. The thought of having to care for any child horrified her, but something else caught her eye before she could comment.

Nesta's brow furrowed as she saw the words 5:00- Training as the first thing listed every day, scrawled thinly in the top margin in a dark blue ink- different then the black of the rest of the paper. 

She looked up to Jaida. "I thought I was only training once a week? This says I have training before the sun even rises every day."

Cassian's head perked at that, looking from Nesta to Jaida. But the wise female only plucked the parchment from Nesta's hand and pulled something else from under her corset. 

It was a capped ink pen. 

She uncapped the pen, small drops of ink flinging from it, and drew two dots and a curved line at the top of the paper. A smiley face. In blue ink. 

Jaida handed the paper back to Nesta, who was both confused and impressed at how every Illyrain female she had met thus far had managed to completely uproot all of her preconceived ideas about them. 

Jadia turned just as a familiar form emerged from the tent nearest to them. 

"Oh, hello, Nesta. I didn't think you'd be here already." 

"Verra?" 

Their icy blue eyes were unmistakable. Nesta had thought that they were just a lowly healer from Velaris, but what were they doing here? 

Cassian stood and offered Verra his seat, which they took and nodded a thanks. This was now seeming more and more like the evening in Feyre's estate when everyone had confronted her. Nesta was suddenly very uncomfortable with all the eyes on her. 

"What is this?" She asked, somehow finding herself asking Cassian and not the other two Illyrians. Her eyes had simply found his, and the mounting anxiety in her ached as he crouched in front of her, effectively closing the group off the rest of camp.

"This," Cassian started eyes darting to Jaida and sharing some secret smile, "is something you cannot tell anyone about." 

The mischief in his voice stirred awake that feeling in her core, and though she did everything she could to mush it down, it only grew when he put a careful hand on her knee and smiled up at her. 

Damnit. 

"I think it's time we show you your living quarters, yeah?" Cassian said, the warmth in his hand leaking through the layers of her dress. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, and she loved it. 

Easier then what? 

Easier then loving you. 

The playfulness drained from his eyes as she opened her end to share the memory. 

They couldn't do this. They had talked about this. Screamed about this. Cried about this. 

Nesta stood. "Yes. Jaida, lead the way." 

Verra, mercifully, did not seem to notice how quickly Cassian stood, eyes downcast. Or if she did, she said nothing. 

Jaida put a gentle hand on Nesta's shoulder, pulling her to walk side by side. Cassian and Verra trailed behind. Nesta could still feel the warmth of Cassian's hand on her knee, even as she walked. She willed the mountain breeze to cool her skin, cool her head. 

The group weaved through the tents, until they reached the edge of the forest. A thin worn path led deeper into the wilderness, and when Jaida led the way Nesta followed.

That one touch, so brief and almost insignificant, had set her ablaze. Her body, her soul, her very being craved his touch as if it were air to breathe. Spending the night in his room had only made it worse. Nesta felt like her life was only made up of times Cassian was near her and when he was not. Any in between, any conversation, any event leading up to or prior to meeting him was irrelevant. 

The impatient whining in her mind told her to give in, just once, and then she would be satisfied. Her curiosity finally answered. The burning and longing and desperation would stop, if she took him to bed him just once. 

But Nesta knew, all to well, that once was all it took to get addicted.

Her mind finally slowed it's running and her skin was dropping in temperature when they reached a clearing, not 20 feet into the forest, with a quaint little cottage in the center. 

It was larger then the other homes she had seen in the residential area of the Windhaven, and made of a different grey stone. It was actually quite cute, with blue and white flowers dotting the yard. Nesta could see from where she stood that there was a lake behind the cottage, seemingly right up against the back of it. As they approached the small house, Nesta could see the moss growth on the stone, exposing the age of this particular retreat. 

Jaida led the way, lifting up her skirts to step through the high grass of the meadow. The sky was still overcast, the grey light falling down through the trees, but somehow the meadow seemed to radiate its own sunlight, brighter and happier then the dreary camp behind them. 

When they got to the door, to Nesta's surprise, Jaida knocked. So this cottage was occupied. Nesta's heart sank. Some small part of her hoped she could live here, in this magical house in the forest. 

From inside, a muffled "I'm on my way!" was followed by a consistent gate that Nesta could not place. 

thump thump, tick, thump thump, tick, thump thump, tick 

Someone walking? But what was- 

The wooden door swung open, but Nesta saw no one. 

"Henery! Once, again, I just want to thank you- " Jaida started, but was cut off by a gruff, weary voice. 

"Absolutely not!" Something hit Jaida in the head. "No 'thank yous' in this house young lady! You should know better then that." The invisible male said. Nesta was nothing but confused.

But then Nesta realized that Jaida was looking down. 

Nesta shifted her weight to look over Jaida's shoulder, and was...still confused. 

The man stood no more then four and a half feet tall, hunched over almost at a ninety degree angle from his waist. He wore thick wood framed glasses, making his green eyes comically large. His face, wrinkled and droopy, was a patch work of age spots and moles. His eyebrows were long enough to braid, flaring up his forehead as if he were permanently surprised. A frizzy grey braid fell over his right shoulder. Then Nesta noticed the males wings. 

They were grotesquely small and hopelessly misshapen, sticking up and out in odd angles. They were wings that would never find the sky, even Nesta knew that. Some places, the thick black membrane of the wing itself was either missing or torn or too loose, flapping like a curtain whenever the male moved. 

And move he did. 

With the wooden cane in his right hand, the source of the tik Nesta had heard eariler and the hit on Jaida's head, he lifted Jaida's arm and walked under it, right toward Nesta. 

"You!" He said, shaking his cane at her as he advanced.

She backed up a few steps, almost scared of this oddball male who lived in the middle of the forest, but backed up into something solid and warm behind her. 

Cassian. 

She immediately retracted away from him, and found herself trapped between solid mass of muscle and the crazy forest man before her. 

"You are my new favorite person, do you know that?" The male said gruffly.

She felt more then heard Cassian chuckle at her back, and felt a gentle push on her lower back. 

She gingerly took a step forward, just as the old man fluffed his misshapen wings out. He moved his wings like a cat would move its tail, expressing every emotion. 

He smiled up at her, his giant green eyes glowing from behind the thick glasses. It reminded Nesta of a goldfish in a bowl. 

"Henery. Hen-er-ee. At your service, your witchieness." Henery ensnared Nesta's hand in the gnarled wood of the top of his cane and shook it, as if shaking her hand with his own. 

His smile didn't fade on bit as Nesta did her best to return the makeshift handshake. 

"I'm Nesta. Um..." Nesta looked over Henery to Jaida, who had plastered on a fake smile and was pointing to it frantically, prompting Nesta to smile as well. Only then did Nesta realize she had been frowning all morning, and her cheeks suddenly hurt. 

But just as Nesta began to curl her lip in a pathetic attempt to smile at the old male, Henery dropped Nesta's hand from the cane and swung it behind him, bonking Jaida in the head again. 

"Ow!" She yelped, holding the top of her head where his cane hit. 

"And you deserve it!" Henery said, spinning toward Jaida, facing the open door. "If the girl doesn't want to smile, she does not have to! Smiles are not mandatory in this house. If anything, Jaida, you need to frown more. We should all frown more, I think, however..." He continued talking as he started walking through the door, and the whole group followed him in. 

The inside of the cottage was just as cute and quaint as the outside. It was open and inviting, the door opening to the main living area. A stone fireplace decorated with bramble and white flowers warmed the room. A large comfortable looking couch was before the fire place, two rocking chairs on either side. To the left, an arched doorway opened to what looked to be a small dining room, a vase of blue flowers on the small round table. 

What made Nesta's breath catch in her throat was the arched window at the far side of the living room. It was floor to ceiling, about four feet wide, and looked out onto the small lake behind the house. The view was stunning, mist glimmering over the surface of the lake. There was a small dock onto the lake, but no boat was hooked there. Nesta could see from where she stood in the doorway large blue herons on the edges of the water, and even some deer further in the distance, drinking from the edge of the lake. 

"It's truly beautiful, isn't it?" Verra said from beside her, smiling to themselves as they stepped around her. 

Verra walked further into the living space, and Nesta followed. Everyone filtered into the house around Nesta, and she heard the door shut behind her. Nesta stalked closer to the window, entranced by the view. 

Jaida stepped up next to her, calmly and quietly as to not interrupt Nesta's gazing, and whispered, "I'll take your cloak, dove." 

Nesta tore her eyes from the lake, about to make a snide remark on the pet name 'dove', but the kindness in Jaida's brows eyes stopped her. Nesta took off her cloak and Jaida took it, walking past Henery and draping it over his cane. He huffed at her, still going on about how he was sad frowning had gone out of style, and flipped her cloak onto a hook next to the door.

What kind of oddball family unit had she gotten mixed up with? 

Nesta watched from the window as the four Illyrians settled in the living room, Cassian leaning back on the couch next to a straight-backed Verra. Henery claimed the rocking chair closest to the door across the room, sitting with his feet tucked under him. Nesta mused that when he sat like that, his hunch made him look like a turtle. Jaida gracefully sat in the rocking chair closest to the window, her back now facing Nesta.

Only then did Nesta realize, Jaida had no wings.

Something stalked into the room. Nesta's magic recognized it, darkness greeting darkness. 

Nesta whirled around to see Azriel, bounding down from the stairwell to her left. She hadn't noticed it. 

Another figure followed behind him, moving like a shadow behind Azriel. 

The female seemed to be carved from ebony, her muscles sharp and gleaming in the light from the window. Her tightly curly hair was loose, falling just below her strong chin. Though she was short, like most Illyrian females Nesta had seen, it was clear she was deadly. 

The dark green tunic she wore swayed as she snapped her head to Nesta, her black eyes dancing with mischief.

"I like your dress." The female said, "It's a good color for you." 

Nesta found the air to reply. "Thank you. It suits you much better, though."

The female chuckled, her eyes sharpening as she focused on Nesta. 

"It does, doesn't it?" 

Azriel, from across the room, arms braced on the back of the couch leaning over Cassian, said, "Lori, play nice." 

Nesta did not take her eyes off the small but mighty female as she stepped closer, any trace of a smile gone from her face. 

"Lorafina. Call me Lori, or we have issues." Lori held out her hand. Nesta was terrified.

Nesta brought her hand up and gave Lori's a firm shake. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Cassian watched as Az's top shadow shook hands with a pale faced Nesta. He was impressed. 

Not many people could keep Lori's gaze that long without cowering. Cassian had to admit that he was even a bit afraid of the female. 

She was the perfect pick to be the Inner Circle's eyes and ears here at Windhaven. The males disregarded the females so much that no one would ever consider a female a security threat. 

A prejudice that was not only foolishly arrogant, but dangerous. 

Lori had been working as one of Azriel's spies for over a hundred years, since she was 60, and in all that time she had only grown more intimidating. 

As Lori let Nesta's hand go, Nesta's chest rose and fell heavily, as if she was sucking in as much air as possible. 

Yes, an interaction with Lori had that effect on people. 

"She's not ready, Cassian." Az whispered in his ear as they watched Lori stalk away from Nesta. 

"I don't think she'll every be." He replied, standing as Lori approached so she would have somewhere to sit. Lori didn't look at him as she passed, she just took his seat and started talking with Az. 

Cassian was building up the courage to go to Nesta when Henery beat him to it. The old man called to Nesta from where he sat in the rocking chair. 

"Well, witch, what do you think? Pretty spiffy place, isn't it." The older male said, his low drawl buzzing through the room. 

Nesta shifted her weight. Cassian could tell she was uncomfortable, yet her body language gave away nothing. He could feel it in the bond, though, the mounting anxiety and confusion. This was to much for her. He should have prepared her better for this, should have warned her about what it was going to be like. 

Nesta's voice did not waver, though, as she responded. 

"It's quite lovely actually." She looked about the small living room as if it were an art gallery. "You have a beautiful home." 

Henery barked a laugh, sounding something like a duck quacking. "You think I live here? I'm so flattered!" 

Jaida, seated across from him in her rocking chair, looked at him quizzically.

"You do live here, Henery."

Henery was still laughing to himself. "I know but the fact that she sees me- cooky as I am- and doesn't think I live under a toad stool is..." He took a deep breath. "...refreshing." 

"To be fair, " Az butt in, "you did live in a tree once." 

Cassian cocked his head at his brother. "It was an oak tree." 

Lori snapped, "That doesn't make a difference, it's a tree." 

"You live in a tent, sweetness. Perspective matters." Jaida smiled sweetly even as Lori glared at her. 

"A prism of swine skin is not as sturdy as a tree. Fact." Henery continued, leaning forward in his chair. "Tress provide less coverage from the elements then a swine skin prism. Also fact." He shook his head. "Pros and cons, people."

Jaida lifted a hand, almost asking permission to speak. "Are we getting a bit off topic here?" 

Henery pointed his cane at her. "I'm fantastic at getting off topic, angel." 

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Iona walked in, having to duck her head to get through the door. Her large wings pressed themselves in, trying to avoid knocking things over. She had to, as her wingspan rivaled even Az's.

"Hi everyone!" Her jubilant voice filled the small space. "I'm really sorry I'm late, Rosie was trying to get into the armory drunk again." Her smile brightened the room, her full cheeks lifting and narrowing her almond shaped eyes.

"My gentle giant! Come in, come in!" Henery shouted to the doorway, where Iona lingered.

She stepped into the space, her arms crunched to her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller. 

"Oop...'scuse me....sorry...." Iona apologized as she walked through the living room, so careful with her movements. She gasped when she saw Nesta though, and continued her cautious journey though the seated Illyrians. 

"I am so excited for this, wow, you have no idea." She spoke to no one in particular and she stepped over feet and around wings. 

Nesta was completely unreadable as Iona approached. "You are so much cooler in person." 

Nesta craned her neck to fully look in the female before her.

Standing over 6 ft tall, Iona was by far the tallest female at Windhaven. Perhaps the tallest Illyrian female ever. She was also the picture of health and strength, her arms and legs thick with fat and muscle. Cassian always loved training with her, though she wasn't very good at it. She was built with brute strength, her weight only adding to the power she packed with a well placed punch. 

However, she hadn't learned how to balance that power with agility or weaponry. She was learning, though, as all the Illyrian women were, slowly and surely.

"I'm a huge fan, Cassian talks about you all the time-" Iona's brows shot up, and she slowly turned her head to face Cassian. 

He only cocked his head and stared right back at her. 

"And what I mean by that is he talks about how much he definitely doesn't like you." 

Iona looked at Cassian and gave a small smile and a small thumbs up. 

He rubbed his temples. 

"Okay, I'm sorry, stop." Nesta said sharply, sucking all the joy from the room. 

She clasped her hands together, the knuckles turning white. 

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" 

Cassian could tell she was trying, really trying to bite her tongue and control herself. She was overwhelmed, uncomfortable, and confused. He did not blame her. 

Though he knew her end was shut and sealed, he sent as much comfort as he could muster down the bond, trying to ease any of that anxiety she was feeling. To his relief, she accepted a small piece of it. Her hands loosened, her knuckles once again having circulation.

"What's going on," Jaida said, standing from her rocking chair and turning to face Nesta, "is that you will be staying here in the cottage with Iona and Henery." 

Nesta looked to the floor, taking a few deep breaths. "Okay." Was all she said. She was still looking at the floor. 

Iona raised an arm to pull Nesta into a hug- Iona was always a hugger- but Cassian caught her eye and shook his head. Iona, though looking sad about it, slowly withdrew her arm. 

"Dad and I will take great care of you. He's an amazing cook." Iona said, always the comforter. 

"Okay." Her voice shook ever so slightly. 

"Nesta, dove, would you like me to show you to your room?" Jaida said, slow and sweet, ever the empath knowing exactly how Nesta was feeling. 

Nesta looked up at Jaida, nodding slowly. "Okay." 

Jaided moved like water, leading Nesta up the stairs, a gentle guiding hand on her back. 

Cassian looked back at Iona after the pair had dissipated upstairs. 

"Yeah, yikes I really said that right to her didn't I?" Iona sat down in the rocking chair where Jaida had been. 

"Yes, you did." Cassian sighed. "Well, when do we tell her?" 

Verra, who had been silently sitting watching the show, butted in. "She's not ready, Cassian."

"I agree" Said Az, pacing behind the couch. "Not even close." 

Henery's rocking chair groaned as he rocked back and forth. "She has to be. We don't have time to wait until she is."

Cassian rubbed his eyes. This was a bad idea. All of this was a bad idea. 

"She's going to be ready, I believe in her." Iona said, twiddling her thumbs as her knee bounced. 

Sitting back, Cassian looked at Iona and smiled. 

"I do, too." 

_______________________________________________________________________________

The stairs opened to a short hallway with two doors, one on each side. Jaida led Nesta to the furthest door, opening it to reveal a small simple room. An oak frame bed, a small armiore, a small vanity, and in the far corner a bookshelf with a love- seat in front of it. A reading nook. 

There were two large windows on the wall across from where Nesta stood at the door. A small table with a vase of blue and white flowers rose from the floor between the windows. 

A quaint little room, in this quaint little house, in the quaint little meadow. 

Nesta was not built for the quaint little life. 

"The bathroom is the other door in the hall. Your bags are already unpacked, so everything is all ready for your stay." Jaida said, still standing in the doorway with Nesta. 

Nesta was really trying to breath normally. She could feel her lungs heaving with the effort not to hyperventilate. 

So all she said was, "Okay." 

Jaida looked at Nesta, struggling to find the right words to say. She had dealt with many of those outcast from Illyrian society- orphans, differently abled, closeted. But Nesta was a uniqueness all her own. She had no idea how to comfort Nesta or to try to relate to her. This would challenge both of them. 

Hopefully in the best way. 

So, Jaida only said, "Do you need a moment?" 

And Nesta only replied, "Okay." 

Jaida nodded, hesitated for only a moment, then stepped out of the room and walked back downstairs, leaving Nesta to her room.


	16. Chapter 16- Descent

Would it be worth it?

All this fuss, all this time and energy, these new people, this stress- spent on what?

Spent on a girl with no purpose, no reason to continue.

Spent on a scared child, unable to cope with the cards she's been dealt.

Nesta stood just inside the door, which Jaida had shut so carefully behind her.

Tiptoeing. Everyone was tiptoeing around her. So careful, not because she was something precious like Elain or important like Feyre.

Because she was dangerous. Because she was unpredictable and they were afraid of that.

Of her.

Even Cassian. Careful not to be caught staring. Careful to keep three steps behind.

Obedient, quiet, calm. In trying to appease her, he had changed everything that made him himself. Everything that sparked the fire in his eye had to be squndered just so she could breathe around him.

She had made him snuff out his flame, the whisps of smoke left curling around her heavy heart.

She really was a monster.

Monsters had no place in this world. Didn't deserve a place in this world.

Something snapped in her palm, her skin breaking from her fingernails digging into the soft flesh.

Nesta unclenched her fists, dark blood already seeping from the crescent shaped wounds.

She didn't want to feel it, the pain, but she did. She always did.

Nesta was an expert at numbing her feelings, though.

She just needed a little help. Just one more time. One more.

Nesta looked around the room, eyes landing on the small reading nook, specifically to the shelf just past it.

Just as she had suspected, just as was set up at her own apartment, there was 'decorative' wine bottles on the shelves, working ats bookends.

Nesta felt a small drip of blood run down her fingertip as she stalked toward the shelf.

She knew she had a problem, she knew this wasn't a way to cope and it would only make things worse.

But she had no other choice.

Her life had become a series of moments Nesta wanted to forget. She didn't drink because she enjoyed it.

She drank to forget. To dull, to mull, to stop the constant scream in her soul. Alcohol was the only thing that could do that for her.

The bottle clinked against the dark wood as Nesta pulled it from the shelf. She didn't look at the label. Didn't care what kind it was, what the proof was, how old it was.

She pulled the cork with a twist of her wrist and took a long, deep drink.

Bitter, dark red wine. It was sharp, dazzling her thraot as it went down. Already the silence settled inside of her.

Nesta wiped her bloody hands on her dress, the pain from her nail marks fading as the warmth spread from her throat.

She walked back over to the door, leaning agaisnt it with her back. Sliding down until she was sitting on the floor, Nesta took another sip.

It was barely mid- morning. She should have cared. She didn't though, as she swallowed the dark red liquid down.

Nesta leaned her head back against the door and let one hot heavy tear fall down her face.

She was nothing. And even if Cassian would insist that she meant something to him, she knew what she really was to him.

A dampner. A ball and chain. Always holding him back, making him change or hurt or slow down.

He could say what he wanted.

Nesta saw the look in his eye when he looked at her.

All she would ever do was hold him back. Keep him still, keep him quiet.

He was never meant to be a simple match.

No, Cassian was a bonfire. Bright and beautiful and raging with a passion the glowed like the sun.

She could never feed that fire enough. It would always dwindle if she still existed to him.

Existed at all.

Nesta took another deep swig.

______________________________________________________________________________

The group of Illyrians were in serious conversation as Jaida returned back downstairs.

"If we are going to do this we have to do it now. Wether she's ready or not, the Blood Rite is in less then 4 months. If not her, then we need to find someone else." Lori's voice edged on sharp as she spoke to Cassian and Az.

Az shook his head. "It can't be anyone else. Nesta is an outsider, she has no connections or duties to anyone here. No other female can say that."

Both of the spymasters arms were braced on the back of the couch, Lori leaning against the fireplace across from him.

Verra, seated on the couch to Az's right, chimed in. "I still don't understnad why you're assuming Devlon and the others will respect her enough to listen to her."

"They don't have to respect her-" Henery cut in, still turtle-ing in his rocking chair, "they fear her."

The old man huffed a laugh as he continued. "They'll do anything to save thier own asses. If they think she has control of those powers enough to do serious damage, they'll have to listen."

Iona, standing behind him, nodded in agreement.

Cassian stood from the couch and spoke as soon as he saw Jaida at the bottom of the steps.

"Is she okay?" The care in his voice planted a flower in Jaida's heart.

"Truthfully, " she began, feeling that flower die even as she spoke the words, "No. She's not."

Az sighed, whispering to himself, "She never is."

Cassian twisted to face him, saying low and quiet. "She's allowed time to greive her old life."

Az straightened, eyebrows furrowed. "Greive what? She had no life, Cassian, not in Velaris."

"She did, just not one you or I could understand. She was coping the best she could and we've ripped her from her safe space only to place her in the middle of the forest with a crazy old man." 

Cassian held a hand out to Henery. "No offense."

"You didn't say anything that wasn't true." Henery was cleaning off his thick glasses with the end of his beard.

Az met Cassians eye. "She's the only one who can do this, Cassian."

"You're right, but she deserves time to ad-"

"She deserves time to cope but we simply do not have that time to give her."

"We have four months!" Cassian kept his voice down, but lost no ferocity.

The others in the room were all suddenly very interested in the decor of the house, looking away from the two brothers fighting.

"She has less the four months to train, learn to control her magic, and rally the females behind her for our cause. Four months is the blink of an eye, Cassian, you know that."

Jaida had been lingering on the bottom stair, but stepped into the room completely, standing by the window.

"If I may, " She said, hands folded together, "Even if we discount Nesta, I am still unsure of your plan."

Lori, suddenly prompted by having someone on her side, added, "I agree. Devlon is scared, but not intimidated. That's the key."

Iona, taking her father's glasses from him and cleaning them on the hem of her blue shirt, snorted. "That man is only intimidated by our High Lord." 

Cassian's attention shifted. "And our High Lady."

Both Iona and Lori laughed at that, Verra snickering under her breath.

Lori was the female bold enough to say it.

"No, he's not intimidated by Feyre, he's petrified of what Rhys will do if he doesn't act intimidated by her." The female said, wings fluffing.

Az stared at his spy. "What does that mean?"

Verra spoke this time, drawing Az and Cassians attention down to the blue eyed healer.

"If it weren't for Rhys's feirce protection of her status, none of the Illryrians would respect Feyre."

"Males aren't ready for it - if our High Lord died tommrow the Illyrians would riot agianst our High Lady." Iona added, "And that's barely stopping them now."

Jaida finished the thoughts of her fellow females. "The males are so desperate to keep the females opressed they consider Feyre a threat to thier very lively hood."

Lori sat back down in the rocking chair across from Henery, sighing and throwing her legs over the arm rest.

"A lively hood based on the oppression of others isn't a lively hood worthy of protecting."

Henery put his glasses back on and said, "I say kill all males."

Everyone in the room looked at him.

"What?"

Iona leaned over the chair to look at her father. "Dad, you are a male..."

"Yeah," he cackled, "And I'm over 2,500 years old! I've run my course." He patted Iona on the head. "I don't mind if it helps you live a free and happy life."

Lori seemed to be legitimately considering that as an option. Jaida said nothing.

Verra sighed, reluctant to argue agaisnt Henery's idea. "Unfortunately, the Illyrian race would die out without males."

Cassian scoffed, clearly offended. "You're only defense of the entire male sex is that you need us to breed?"

Lori didn't look up as she said, "When my dad assulted my mom that's all he thought of her as."

Az looked down.

"Treat others how you want to be treated, right? The males have been treating us as breeders for millenia. That's all they think we're good for- cooking, cleaning, and child rearing. I, for one, think-"

CRASH

Everyone jumped at the noise from upstairs.

Nesta.

"I got it." Cassian turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

He could never understand what the Ilyrians had been put through. He did understand, though, that simply by the luck of the draw he had been born with privelages and assumptions that had been curated by millenia of sexisim by the Illyrian males.

He also knew that if Nesta had a reason, had something to defend, to be passionate about, maybe that sharp tounge would come back.

Although her words cut deep, seeing her completely silent was so much worse.

He got to the top of the stairs, hearing something downstairs continuing the conversation about breeding, and then the sharp smell hit him.

Wine. Wine and..

blood.

Nesta.

He was infront of her door in three steps, raping on the white hardwood.

"Nesta?" His heart thundered in his chest, this scene all to clsoe to the morning he pulled her from the bathtub.

Had that only been a few days ago? It felt like a distant memory.

She was alive, he could tell that from the tether hanging between them.

So what was she doing?

He knocked again, "Nesta, can I come in?"

A shuffling answered him, like someone moving around just on the otherside of the door. A clink, a sniffle, and then the door handle turned.

The door opened, only a crack, only enough to see her face. She didn't look at his face, instead her eyes were leveled at her chest.

"What." Her breath smelled of stale wine.

Cassian was casual, though, bracing an arm on the doorframe and looking down at her.

"What was the crash?"

Nesta still didn't meet his eye as she said, "I threw a bottle of wine against the wall."

Cassian startled, his casual demeanor yeilding to the gnawing of his instincts. "You what? Nesta, are you-"

She sighed, closing the door another inch. "I'm not hurt, I'll clean it up, I'll be down in a few moments."

And then she shut the door in his face.

Her name rose in his throat, to call out to her, to break down the door, to help her.

But he knew he couldn't. He had tried. It was up to her now, if she even wanted help. He couldn't force her to seek out help.

Cassian closed his eyes and leaned his head agaisnt the door, trying to reach out to sense her on the other side. She was there, she was alive, and she was where he could protect her. For now, that was all Cassian could ask for.

Feeling stupid, but not being able to stop himself, he kissed the door where her forehead had just been.

He said quietly through the door,

"I'll see you downstairs, then."


	17. Chapter 17- Ripple

Nesta did not come down until after dark, just in time for dinner.

In the small side room Henery used as a dining room, the circular table only had four seats.

Poor Iona was smashed in the back corner, holding the small bowl of soup as delicately as a baby bird in her hands. Sitting on the floor, she was still able to look over the table. Cassian and Az sat on either side of her, and next to them in the two rocking chairs brought in from the living room sat Verra and Lori. Jaida took the final seat nearest the door, legs folded under her on the chair she sat on, the chair that was too small for Iona.

Henery apologized profusely as he clambered onto the lazy susan in the middle of the table with the entire pot of soup in his lap, spinning around and refilling bowls he saw even the slightest bit empty.

They were trying to convince the old man to get off the table when light footsteps thumped through the house.

Cassian snapped his head to the doorway into the tiny dining room, where Nesta stood, arms crossed.

She seemed alive with a new fire, and though it was only expressed in her arched brow and crossed arms, he was glad to see any sign of it.

Until the sting of wine caught his nose. She was drunk.

She had changed into a dark red tunic and black pants, her hair braided into a bun. Put herself together. Pretended. He was so sick of watching her pretend.

Jaida smiled, standing from her seat. "Here, I'll go get you a bowl."

Nesta held out a hand to the female though, making Jaida sit back down. "Tell me where they are, I'll get my own."

Finishing pouring Iona another serving, Henery spun around to face Nesta.

"Out this door to your left, you'll see the kitchen. Closest cabniet to the sink, top shelf."

Nesta nodded, exiting the dining room.

Cassian followed her with his eyes as his brother said, "We need to at least tell her the plan. She deserves to know what she's being set up for."

Lori remarked, under her breath, "What she's being used for."

Az looked, slow and deliberately, to his shadow. "I've told you, if you have better ideas I'm more then happy to listen."

Lori looked all to happy to retort, "You know my idea Azri-"

"Absolutely out of the question, and we're not talking about it again." The shadowswinger snapped, out of character for him.

Saving them all a tense silence, Nesta stalked back into the room, holding out her bowl to Henery. He gleefully filled it to the brim, his wooden ladel clanking as he scooped the warm soup.

Before he could offer her his seat, Cassian watched as Nesta leaned against the door frame, sipping her soup in small spoon fills.

Az looked at Jaida, who spoke first. "Nesta, dove, there is a reason we've brought you here."

Nesta was mid spoonful, her lips just resting on the silver. Cassian looked away.

Her spoon plooped back down into the bowl, eyes locked on Jaida.

The woman in white continued. "We are hoping your presence here at Windhaven- along with allowing you time and space you need- can also help the Illyrian females as well."

Jaida looked to the other females around the table. "Would you be willing to hear us out?"

Nesta's brows pushed together, and she set her bowl on the table. Cassian noticed she hadn't really been taking sips, as the bowl was still just as full as when Henery had filled it.

"You want my help?" She asked, not a drip of bite to her words. Genuinely confused- interested.

Lori chuckled, hiding her smile with her hand and looking away.

Iona looked at the floor between her legs.

Verra was looking out the window.

Only Cassian, Az, and Jaida had thier attention fully on Nesta, lingering, waiting for her response.

Nesta leaned back against the door frame again, guestering to the females in the room.

"They don't want my help."

"I do, dove."

"Who told you to say that?" Nesta snapped, eyes locked on Az even as she spoke to Jaida.

Az stiffened, holding onto his manners and his tounge. He was always silent, but his words could be deadly. That would not be the way to approach this conversation.

He started, "The blood rite is in four months. Are you aware of what that is?"

Nesta nodded.

Az continued, "We want you to help us end it."

_______________________________________________________________________________

Nesta's mind was still spinning, drunk enough to bring her chin back up, but not enough to start becoming a giggling little shit.

It also meant, though, that her words weren't filtered. And whatver the hell Azriel was talking about seemed important. She had to tread carefully.

"End it?" She held back a giggle.

Azriel nodded. "The stigma between females and males comes from the ideolgy that only males can be warriors. The blood rite is what deceides if a male is a worthy warrior. If it stops, so does the stigma."

Lori again, had her hand over her mouth, keepig her smile to herself.

Nesta noticed. So she turned to Lori. "What do you think of this idea?"

Lori paused, obviously surprised. Just as she formed words, though, Azriel cut her off.

"You don't have to answer that."

Lori turned her head slowly, facing Azriel.

But Nesta was already onto Verra, staring out the window. "Verra?"

The healer turned their head.

"I think ...." They ooked to Cassian, then to Azriel. "I think it is one possible solution to the problem."

Nesta looked past Verra. "Iona?"

The gentle giant only met Nesta's eyes and moved her head in a way that Nesta could not decipher as a nod or her shaking her head.

"Nesta," Azriel began as Nesta started to understand what was happening. "The blood rite is the key to creating an enviorment of equality here at Windhaven."

He was speaking like he had memorized notes from a lecture.

Lori spoke up, looking right at her superior. "That we can agree on."

"No."

All eyes swept to Nesta.

"I'm not going to help you."

Cassian spoke, unable to help himself. "Nesta-"

"I said no."

"Why?" Henery spoke, sipping soup right from his ladel. He seemed like he was being entertained by all this.

"It's clear the females aren't onboard with the idea. Why would I help you fight if the females you're fighting for don't even like the plan?"

She paused.

"Why do you even need to fight for the females? We can't fight for ourselves?"

Az began to speak, but Nesta cut him off.

"I'm not going to be a pawn in your war games. It seems to me like none of the females in this room want that either."

Nesta turned, saying over her shoulder. "Thank you for the soup."

Henery said back, "Any time, witch,"

Cassian stood as she grabbed her cloak, as well as the parchment that held her schedule.

"Where are you going? It's dark." He called after her.

She already had the door open when he exited the dining room.

"A walk."

And then the door was shut.

_________

Nesta stalked through the camp. She may have been afraid to be out in the dark like this in Velaris, but everyone was so appauled by her she knew no one would touch her.

She weaved between the tents, each home glowing like a lantern due to the fire within.

Then she made her way back over the hill, back into the main camp. She had no idea what time it really was, only that the camp was quiet and cold.

Her feet rememebered more then her mind did. Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself on the tavern steps.

Sighing to herself, Nesta pulled on the door.

A warm glow filled the space, the roaring fireplace surrounded by antlers and heads of prized game.

The whole place had a masculine ambiance, and Nesta did not care for it one bit. She was choking on the testosterone as she found a booth in the corner and slid into it. No one had noticed her enter, and she intended to keep it that way. She waved away the waiter that was sulking toward her table.

She didn't come here to drink.

She hoped that her booth was isolated enough that she could stay for a bit, sober up, and leave before anyone questioned the hooded figure in the booth alone.

Nesta pulled the parchment from her pocket and unfolded it.

5:00- Training

The blue ink, written in by Jaida.

6:00- Training (pick one day)

Nesta could only assume based on what Cassian had said that meant pick one day of the week to train with the males. She swallowed hard.

6:30- Breakfeast

Was a stale peice of bread worth getting up that early for? Nesta already knew the answer.

7:00- Meet with Jaida

Oh, Dark Hel.

8:00- Workday

Laundry MWFS

12:00- Lunch

13:00- Workday

So, truthfully, her days and tasks were at the mercy of Jaida. Nesta felt something like releif at being able to have a steady face to be near every day. A constant would be good for her.

18:00- Dinner

'Dinner' was the last thing listed. Her whole life here depended on how tortuous Jaida felt like being. Nesta didn't want to find out if the kind female had a dark side. She made a mental note to stay happy around Jaida.

"Whaaat did the cat draaag in?"

A female voice slurred in front of Nesta.

Nesta watched as Rosie, bottle in hand, slid into the bench before her.

"The fuuk are you ding in my taevrn, wittch?" Rosie hiccuped.

Nesta almost laughed.

"I didn't realize you could get thrown out of places you owned." She remarked, watching the curls of the Illyrian before her bounce as she laughed.

"You ss-saw that?" Her eyes went wide as she brought her bottle down hard to the table. "Yikes." 

Rosie hiccuped again. She was wearing the same clothes as earlier, a simple white blouse tucked into a long brown skirt, a blue corset sinching everything up.

Her figure was stunning, but Nesta could tell that even in her drunken state, Rosie was working to diminish that. Rosie never brought her elbows close together, preventing her cleavage from growing any bigger then it was. She never brought her shoulders down, never exposing more then her blouse already did.

Nesta didn't want to know the backstory to why she was working avidly to hide her figure. Many Illyrian women probably had the same story.

"Do you need something?" Nesta asked the blonde female, now swirling a curl around the lip of her bottle.

"I just-" hiccup "- can't walk home because of the male pricks." She threw her head back, geustering to a table of males.

"So it's an aaaall nighter for me." They all were easily a foot taller then Rosie, and when they saw Nesta looking they quickly turned away.

"Where's Sera?" Nesta asked, eyeing the table of preadtors nearby.

"Her asshole of a father came and drug her out by her hair."

Nesta looked back to Rosie. "Literally?"

Rosie nodded, then took a long swig of her bottle.

Nesta folded her schedule up and put it back in her pocket.

She threw out the lifeline, knowing exactly what it was to be in Rosie's situation.

"Do you want me to walk with you? No one will come near us. I seem to have a tendancy to repell people."

Rosie perked up, brows furrowed. "I dooon't n-need your help."

"I know."

A hiccup from Rosie.

Nesta put her head down, looking at her hands folded in her lap.

"I'd appreciate the company, though."

When she looked back up, Rosie was smiling. "Let's g-get out of here then."

They stood, Nesta sending a glare at the table of males as they exited the tavern.

Rosie led the way, bumbling through the marketplace and into the street. Nesta was surprised when Rosie began leading back toward the tents.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Nesta asked as they stalked up the hill, her calfs burning from all the wandering of the day.

"What, you thought I'd live in a mansison or s-something?" Rosie asked over her shoulder, passing the large bonfire pit.

Nesta followed. "No, but I guess I assumed you'd live with your family."

Rosie stopped in front of a tent thats entry flap was decorated with roses and ribbon.

"I don't have family."

Nesta stopped a few feet behind, not wanting to step into Rosie's home space. "I'm sorry."

Rosie leaned agaisnt the tent, the wooden support groaning. "No one hass family here, not in any way that matterers at least." Hiccup. "Come in."

And she dissapeared inside the faintly glowing tent. Nesta followed her in.

The walls were decorated with tapestrys and dried flowers. Rosie had an eye for this, it seemed. The space was small but comfortable, a bed agaisnt the wall on one side, a small wooden dresser next to it acting as a nightstand. There was one table, small enough to be considered a tea table, and one chair up agiasnt it. A large rug covered the floor, the sun rising above the mountians embroidered on it. A circle was cut out right where the sun would be and the small fire pit rose from the ground.

It was much more cosy and comfortable then Nesta had thought a tent would be.

But the idea that women without a family or without a husband were simply cast out still made Nesta's stomach churn, no matter how nice the tent was.

Nesta stood, while Rosie collapsed in her bed.

"What about Sera? She's not family?" Nesta asked as Rosie sat up.

Rosie laughed, throwing the bottle which she had carried with her agaisnt the wall. It bounced harmlessly. "I can't claimm her like that. Her f-father would kill me."

Nesta knew she didn't mean figuratively.

"Thank you." Rosie said, freckled face looking at Nesta.

Nesta almost smiled, but the sound of rushing footsteps stopped her. She whipped around to face the door just as Sera burst in.

"Rosie?" She gasped breathlessly.

Rosie stood, eyes suddenly sharp with concern, "What the hell are you doing here? Your da-"

Nesta noticed the purple and blue across Sera's face the same time Rosie did. Rosie brought a hand up to cup Sera's face, the opposite side of the bruise.

"I'll be fine." Sera said, gently grasping Rosie's wrist. Rosie hiccuped.

"There were males at the tavern who-" Nesta began to explain, but Sera cut her off.

"I'll deal with it. What do you want?"

Nesta furrowed her brow. "What?"

Sera stepped past Rosie to sit down on the bed and take her boots off. Rosie walked to sit next to her as she spoke.

"For getting Rosie home, what do you want?" Sera said, shifting as Rosie sat down next to her.

"Nothing." Nesta said. How horrible was life here that even women helping other women was seen as something that needed to be paid for?

"Bullshit. Everything has a price." Sera snapped, standing to face Nesta. Even though she was taller, Nesta respected the protection in her eyes.

Roise put a pale hand on Sera's arm. "Sera, cut it-" hiccup- "Cut it out."

"I know what it's like."

Both females looked to Nesta.

"To walk home from and be followed. To fear that, I know what it's like."

Nesta gestured to Rosie. "I hate that other females know it too."

She put her hands up in front of her, a sign of surrendering. "I don't want anything."

Sera narrowed her eyes, but Nesta was already opening the flap.

"We'll be seeing you." Rosie called to her.

But even as Nesta turned back, Rosie's attention was already shifted to Sera, who was kneeling in front of Rosie on the bed, letting Rosie fuss over her bruise.

Nesta's heart ached as she made her way back to Henery's cabin.

_______________________________________

Cassian sat on the dock. His shoes were next to him, his pant legs rolled up, hid feet dragging in the water. The stars reflected in ripples, and it looked like he was dipping his feet in a galaxy.

He smelt her before he heard her soft footsteps patter onto the dock. He heard laces softly rubbing agaisnt eachother as she unlaced her shoes. A quiet thunk as she set them down by his own.

Nesta sat next to him, his mirror image with her pant legs rolled up and leaning back on her hands.

Her feet barely made a sound as she slid them into the water.

Neither of them spoke.

Cassian breathed her in, rum and roses. He sighed, letting the cool water seep through his feet and through his body.

Today hadn't been fun.

He needed to be around her today. He needed to be there as she deteriorated, the reality sinking in. Even if she would never reallly let him in to help in any way that mattered, he knew his presence had eased the burden. So he trotted behind them all day, ever the good dog. He didn't mind. It helped him too, knowing he would be spending some time here.

Cassian looked over to her, but her eyes were to the stars.

Still looking at her, the loose hair by her ear, how her lips parted slightly, the slope of her neck as she stared up, he said, "You can see the stars just fine from Velaris."

She said nothing. He didn't expect her to.

"But out here, there's no light from any city to dull them."

Nesta nodded slightly.

"We always talked about how pure it was. The sky, I mean." Cassian said, finally looking away.

Nesta spoke quietly. "It's what's under this sky that makes me sick."

Cassian looked at the galaxy surrounding his feet and nodded.

"You could help change that, you know." He had been shocked that she had said no. Didn't she want change? Wasn't part of the reason she was appauled by Illyrians the sexisim? Why wouldn't she jump on an opportounity to change that?

He was about to ask those questions when Nesta tore her gaze from the sky.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Cassian nodded.

They sat in silence.

Cassian dared to move his pinky finger over her own. A small connection, a life line. She didn't pull away.

"Where are you staying while you're here?" Nesta asked, eyes on the water.

He pulled his hand away from hers, rubbing his hands down his face. It was late.

"I'll stay in Henery's other spare bedroom." He brought one foot out of the water and rested it on the edge of the dock, leaning back again and finding Nesta's pinky with his own.

Nesta scrunched her brow. "Where does Iona stay?"

Cassian hated the answer, but Nesta deserved to hear it. "With her brother. Henery was offocially exiled from the camp a long time ago, so Iona was living with her husband. He died in the war with Hybern, and since she can't live with someone who has been exiled she has to live with her brother."

"Women can't even live on thier own?

Cassian shook his head.

Nesta looked displeased with that answer. "I'm assuming her brother is a royal prick like the rest of you?"

A slow chuckle came from Cassian. "Yeah, worse."

"Henery was exiled for...?"

"Being crazy."

Nesta nodded, the edge of her lip rising slightly. "I see."

She turned her head, facing him. Her eyes were beautiful, reflecting the water and the stars.

Thank you for being there today.

Words she didn't need to vocalize for Cassian to hear.

She pulled her feet up from the water.

"Will you be at this mysterious training in the morning?" She asked, breaking their hand contact to wipe her feet dry with the edge of her cloak.

"Yeah, I'll meet you in the morning. We'll go see Jaida and she'll take us from there." Cassian said, watching her delicate fingers as they relaced her boot on her foot.

"Well," Nesta grunted, using Cassian's shoulder as a crutch to get up. "I will see you in the morning, then."

She stood and turned, but her hand lingered on his shoulder.

Cassian brought his own hand up, calloused and rough against hers as he flipped it to expose her palm. He planted a small kiss in the center, then looked back up at Nesta. She was staring down at him, eyes kinder then he had seen in a while.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Nesta winced, but didn't pull her hand back.

"Goodnight, Cassian."

Cassian watched her walked back up the dock, her hand sliding out of his and to her side.

Eyes To Hold The Galaxy. He could already see the drawing in his head.

_________________________________________________________

Nesta snuck up the stairs, careful not to wake anyone.

She opened her door slowly, the creaks seeming endless as she tried to be quiet.

She took one step into the room when a sharp pain dug into the bottom of her foot.

Nesta brought her hand to her mouth to silence the cry that rose.

She had forgotten that she threw the wine bottle.

All the glass peices lay on the floor, scattered and shining like starlight.

A curse flew under her breath as she took her cloak off and threw it on the floor. It was enough to get her beside the bed, where she knew no glass was.

Gingerly she hobbled over the cloak, watching for the sharp peaks of glass from under the fabric. When she reached the side of her bed she gave a small hop to get herself the rest of the way.

She lay on her back on the bed, trying to twist to examine her foot. She could feel the blood, and the wound screamed when she ran her finger over it, but she couldn't feel any glass.

She let the foot fall onto the bed with a plop. Leaning over the side of the bed, she found the green dress laying right where she had discarded it earlier. She grabbed it, mishappedly wrapped it around her foot, and wiggled out of her clothes.

Burrowing under the blankets, she held her palm to her face.

The skin seemed to glow where Cassian had kissed it.

Cradling her face with that hand, she curled up in the bed and let sleep take her.


	18. Chapter 18- Salvation

It was still dark when Nesta was awoken by a knock on her door and a heavenly smell.

"It's witchin' time, steel eyes!" Henery hollared from the other side of the door, fully dragging Nesta out of the depths of her sleep. 

She sat up, streching and yawning. It felt weird to rise before the sun, like she was exempt from nature. 

Nesta rubbed her eyes as Henery shouted again. "Hey!" He pounded that gnarled cane on the door.

"I'm up." She replied, swinging her legs off the bed.

She saw the cloak on the floor, remembering why it was there, and quickly moved to stand up from the opposite side of the bed. Her tote was on the floor, contents strewn about. 

Nesta reached down and picked up the only thing she could think to be appropriate for 'training'. 

A plain white blouse, a leather vest she had taken from a one night stand, and the same dark pants she had worn the day before. She had no shoes that would work, so she laced up the ones she had also worn the day before, unfortunately with a small heel. 

That wouldn't work. Nesta look a glass shard, wrapped it in the hem of her shirt as to not cut her hand, and wiggled the heel lose. She pulled it off with a swift tug. 

These makeshift shoes would have to work. 

She laced them up, musing at how they felt, and the carefully padded to the door, avoiding the glass. It would have to be picked up later. She swiped her cloak off the ground, turning her face away and giving it a few good shakes, then wrapped it around herself and exited her room. 

A faint light illuminated the stairway at the end of the short hall. The crackling that accompianed it told Nesta it was from the fireplace. Something smelling warm and kind and sweet filled the air.

She bounced down the steps, lively with energy only the anticipation of good food could spark, and found Cassian and Henery sitting on the couch. 

Cassian went completely still when he saw Nesta at the bottom of the stairs. She suddenly was very concious of the tight leather, showing her figure. Her thin, frail, whithered body, on full display. 

And yet, his honey brown eyes were soft as they met hers.

Cassian stood. "Good morning." 

Nesta only nodded at him.

Henery clambered off the couch as best as he could with his dramatic hunch, and bapped Cassian on the shoulder. The Illyrian yelped and rubbed the spot Henery hit him. 

"You didn't say good morning to me." He mumbled to himself as he gestured Nesta to follow him to the dining room. "What, only say good morning to the pretty females?" 

Cassian smirked as Nesta passed him and followed the old man to the dining room. 

Since it was only the three of them, the space seemed much less crowed. Henery had prepared baked honey cinnamon oatmeal with bits of warm apple. Nesta held back her sigh as she took a bite. At least she was staying with someone who could cook. 

Cassian watched her very closely as she ate.

Henery grunted as he sat down- on a chair this time- and looked over Nesta. "Glad to see you eating, witch." 

Nesta spoke around a mouthful of the bake, "Ith delethiouth."

"Pardon?" Henery chuckled as he scooped some into his own bowl. 

Nesta wiped her mouth. "Sorry, I said it's delecious. Thank you." 

Henery looked at Cassian. 

The Illyrian said proudly, "You're welcome. New recepie I'm trying." 

Nesta blinked. 

"You made this?" She pointed with her spoon to the pan, where Henery was reaching over and scooping her more breakfeast. 

Cassian smiled. "I absolutely did." He shoveled a heap into his mouth. "Worked my ass off." 

Nesta set her spoon down in her bowl. "How early did you get up?" 

"Ha!" Henery coughed, scraping his bowl clean. "He didn't sleep, poor bastard, he- ."

"I slept a bit, but I've been up for a couple hours already." Cassian interrupted Henery with a pointed look. 

Nesta wasn't sure if knowing Cassian cooked made her like the bake more or less. 

Regardless, her stomach was screaming for more. A warmth of pride shimmered down the bond. 

Cocky. Smug. Proud. 

But he did make a damn good breakfeast bake. 

He liked caring for her, that she knew. She didn't anticipate, though, enjoying being cared for.

Nesta looked back down at her bowl as she nodded. 

"Well, " She said, reaching out to scoop more out of the pan. "It's delecious." 

She looked at Cassian as she took a warm bite. 

"Thank you." 

That same warmth down the bond. 

"You're welcome." 

They said nothing as they finished off the pan, Henery scraping it clean. Nesta's stomach was aching by the time they finished, to full after not eating consistently.

Cassian finished his last bite and sighed. "I'll do the dishes quick and then we'll head out." 

Nesta stood, gathering the pan and the bowls before he could. 

"The cook doesn't do the dishes. That's poor manners." She said, already exiting the dining room to the kitchen. 

Henery called after her, just as she heard Cassian stand. "The bat boy's not gonna take 'no' for an answer!" 

But Nesta had already rounded the corner into the kitchen, pumping the water into the sink. A corked bottle of blue liquid looked enough like soap, and Nesta poured it into the warm water filling one side of the sink. Bubbles sprang up immideatly. 

Cassian was there at her side in seconds, nudging her out of the way with his hip. 

"I got it, sweetheart." He cooed, rolling up his sleeves. 

Nesta planted her hands on her hips, grabbing a washcloth from the counter and handing it to Casian. 

"If you insist on being in the way, " She pushed him aside with her hip, using the counter as added leverage.

Cassian let out a laugh, a gentle warm hand landing on her back, as he stepped to the side, conceding. 

"Then you can dry. I'll wash." Nesta faced him and held out the washcloth. 

Looking up at him, they were so close. His hand moved from her back to her wasit as she turned, the other hand raising to grab the washcloth. 

He wrapped his fingers around hers, enclosed around the rag. 

His eyes of brown and honey trapped her, froze her, warmed her heart and soul. 

Nesta's eyes fell to his lips as they curled in a small smile. 

"Okay." 

She blinked. 

"Okay." 

Nesta forced herself to break eye contact, slipping her hand out of his, and plunged her hands into the soapy water. She saw a metal scrubber on the rim of the sink and grabbed it, setting to work. 

Casssian was still facing her, still had his hand on her back again now that she had turned. 

She found a bowl and started scrbubbing at it, running it under the warm water. 

"You have to use both hands to dry, Cassian." She said, refusing to let him see her smile. 

She felt his fingers on her chin, gently pulling her face to meet his again. 

That stupid honey smile was plastered on his face, his eyes glowing. 

"I don't think I do." He mused, almost whispering. 

He took a stray hair of hers between his fingers, twisting it and curling it back around her ear. 

She flitted his hand away, facing the sink again. "Well, I need to look at the dishes to clean them." 

Nesta heard him chuckle and he faced the sink. 

Cassian's hand didn't leave her back. 

It didn't take long to wash the dishes, but with only one hand it did take Cassian longer to dry them. She had the dishes clean, the sink washed out and drained by the time Cassian only had half the dishes dry. 

Nesta looked him over, as she dried her own hands. 

He had some kind of a system down, tossing the plates lightly and catching them with a washcloth covered hand. 

She rolled her eyes. 

Cassian offered no resistance as she pushed his hand away from her back, set down the rag she was using to dry her hands, and walked out of the kitchen. 

Nesta took her hair out of it's bun and began to rebraid it as she met Henery at the door. 

"Where's your puppy?" The old male asked, looking around Nesta to the kitchen. 

"He's finishing drying the bowls. He'll be out in-" 

Cassian fluffed his wings out as he exited the kitchen, interrupting Nesta. 

"We're gonna be late if we don't leave." He said, running a hand through his lose hair. 

Nesta weaved her hair together. "If you hadn't insisted on drying with one hand..." 

Henery conked her on the head with his cane. 

"Hey!" She yelped. "What was that for?" 

Henery only smiled up at her. "Fun."

And then the old man opened the door and walked out, Nesta following as she finished her braid and flicked it over her shoulder. 

Cassian tugged it gently. 

Nesta whirled around and pushed him back, hands on his chest. 

He laughed, and she turned back around, following Henery as he called over his shoulder, 

"You bicker like children! Let's go, kids!" 

___________________________________________________________________________

They met Jaida on the outskirts of the tent city, Cassian at Nesta's side as they walked behind Henery. The old man was singing a lovely song, something about birds and worms. 

Jaida looked angelic as usual, a simple white dress. This time though, the white was interrupted by the brown belt she wore, hanging at her hips. Nesta couldn't help but notice the various knives that hung from it. The female in white approached Nesta with a beautiful smile. 

"Good morning, dove! Please forgive the hour, we have to get started before the males do." Jaida chirped, much to energetic for the time. 

Nesta seperated from Cassian, following the woman around the edge of camp. She knew he would follow, along with Henery. 

"Why would we have to start before them?" Nesta asked, as they rounded the edge of a tent on the outskirts. 

Jaida led the way further behind the tents, then eventually back to the edge of the forest.   
"Well, " she said, heading dead toward the woods, toward a fallen branch. "It's not exactly..." 

She grunted and lifted the branch, the most physical thing Nesta had seen the female do. 

"It's not exactly something in Darrows training plan." The branch reveled a path into the forest. Jaida motioned for Nesta to enter.

She hesitated. She was out of place. She was forigen. 

Nesta looked to Cassian, to the brown eyes that calmed her soul, and he nodded. 

She was already hated. 

So what did she have to lose? 

Nesta started down the path, hearing Jaida sigh as the others followed Nesta into the forest. 

The path was clearly only beaten down by footsteps, but still heavily worn. Nesta could hear something up ahead, but she wasn't sure what. 

Cassian found his way beside Nesta, a light hand on her back letting her know his presence. 

"Okay, listen," He said, leaning in and whispering in a way that shook her core, "What you're about to see might be a little overwhelming." 

Nesta stopped walking and turned to face him. 

Jaida and Henery side stepped past, making their way further down the path. Jaida let out a small giggle as they passed, and Henery bonked her on the shoulder with his cane.

"What is going on, Cassian?" Nesta asked him, keenly aware of how his wings flared when she said his name. 

His smile dropped, now deathly serious. "I know we're... our..." He struggled for the word as he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. 

"Dynamic is ....weird right now, but I want you to know I'll be there right by your side the whole time." Cassian brought that smile back. 

"Plus, I think you'll have fun." 

Nesta took a breath to snap at him when something whizzed right past her ear and buried itself in the tree behind her. She screamed, instincually folding into the muscled body next to her. 

Cassian reacted immideatly, wrapping one arm around her waist and one arm over her her head, pressing her to his chest. 

He hollared into the forest, his voice rumbling on her forehead, "DO NOT POINT ARROWS TOWARD THE PATH! SERA!" 

A female voice answered, "Got it!!" followed by Sera loudly scolding someone about arrows and bows. 

Nesta scrunched her eyebrows, winding her hands between her body and his and shoving herself out of Cassians arms. She sent him a glare laced with confusion, then turned on her heel sprinting down the path. 

"Nesta!" Cassian called after her, but she knew he wasn't keeping pace. 

Only 20 feet ahead, another fallen branch. She didn't bother lifting it, just ducking under. 

The forest ended. A plateau, rocky, windy, unevern ground.

Ragged torn wings, silver flashes of steel. Grunts, laughs, yelps. 

Brown and black wings, some torn, some intact, some tied up. 

Hair, braided, loose, dark, light, flipping through the air. Sweat sheen bare heads, pixie cuts.

All shapes, sizes, shades. 

Females. A hundred. More. 

Swinging swords, striking with spears, arrows aimed. 

And they seemed pretty damn good. They sparred with eachother, the plateau seeming to be split into sections. 

Archery closest, rows of females lined up aiming to trees to the left of the path. They were a machine, dropping and running out of the way once one row had fired making way for the next. They didn't miss. 

The sharp clash of metal on metal filled the air with electricity, thirty women paired up and sparring. They moved like a raging ocean, the glint of the steel the crest of the waves. They were step for step at eachother, no one female having an advantage over the other, seemingly strinking endlessly. 

Roaring cheers of a small crowd surrounding a roped off area about twenty by twenty feet. Two females danced in the ring, hands wrapped in white cloth covered with red as they threw fists like shooting stars. When one pair would stop, another would step into the ring, tightening cloth between teeth and promising a beating to thier partner. 

Nesta stared. 

This is why Cassian had been up for hours. He had been overseeing this training. 

Jaida walked through the females. When they saw her, they dropped thier weapon or fists, and reached out to touch her. She walked through the sea of fingers, arms extended to her sides.

She truly was a diety. 

Jaida was already at the fourth station, a white canopy with female's hands glowing gold. A healers tent. 

Markswomen. Fighters. Warriors. 

This wasn't simple training. 

Nesta only heard the clashing of steel. Only felt the mountian wind nip at her skin. 

This was the begennings of an army. 

This was her salvation.


	19. Chapter 19- Smiles, Secrets, and a Mean Right Hook

Cassian remembered the rush of weilding a sword for the first time. Knew the sense of purpose that melted into every inch of your body in learning how to protect and fight for what you beleive in. It had given him something to live for, something to look forward to, something to be proud of.

It filled him with an overwhelming warmth to be able to present that to Nesta.

By the look on her face, that spark was igniting a fire under her skin just like it had his.

Some trainees were a pain in the ass. They didn't have a bite, a hunger to learn or progress. Before he could train them to be warriors, he had to train them to want it first. Train them to weaponize and refine thier passions, their anger.

With Nesta, Cassian knew that wouldn't be a problem.

Nesta had always been a warrior. Always a fighter, always light on her feet ready to spar. Sure, her weapon was her words, her eyes, but that did not make her any less deadly. She was too sharp, too wicked for her own good.

She was practically drooling, eyes wide and mouth agape looking out onto the training feild. He would have to keep her from letting that unpredictability bubbling over in combat.

As a General, Cassian had to turn people into warriors.

As her mate, Cassian would have to turn a warrior into a person.

Even with her siphons on, that white void began to form on her enclosed fists. She was getting ahead of herself.

Cassian took a breath, but just then Sera shouted over the hum and drum of the training feild, "TIME! LET'S MOVE LADIES, GOOD WORK TODAY!"

The females responded immideatly, stopping thier training and resetting the training field and dragging targets and weapon holsters back into the thick brush of the forest. Casssian stepped closer to Nesta as the females ran past them and into the path leading back to camp. They parted around Cassian and Nesta like a rock in a river.

_______________________________________________________

The wind from the females running past whipped the lose strands of her hair around her face. Time slowed.

Something ancient, deeper, stronger then she had felt before spiraled inside of her at the sight.

Silent sounds were isolated in her ear.

A huff of breath as they ran past.

The crackle of leaves underfoot.

The creak of creasing leather.

Nesta straightened, stepping away from Cassian.

The females continued to part around her, the sea of power splitting before her.

Nesta let the wind flow through her. Cleansing. Clearing. Laying her honest and bare before these females she would evolve into.

She had a purpose. She had never had something that pulled her, called to her, ebbed inside of her like her magic did at the sight of the training grounds.

This was what she was meant for. That swell she had felt on the hill standing above the battlefeild during the war with Hybern.

She had screamed Cassians name.

Everything, every inch of her screamed to be down there fighting side by side with him.

She let the sounds of feet and huff of breath drown her out. She closed her eyes and felt the wind wipe away her regrets, her fears.

Nesta felt pure, patient. Ready.

When all the females had passed, she took a deep breath.

Shoulders and head high, she turned to Cassian.

And smiled.

__________________________________________________________________

Cassian was almost knocked on his ass.

There was nothing wicked, nothing malicious or stinging in that smile. It was happiness, it was fufillment.

It was the most beautiful thing Cassian had ever seen.

So he was completely unprepared for the right hook that slammed into his cheek like a hammer. 

Nesta had punched him so hard he was seeing stars. He was knocked back against a tree, clinging to a branch to stay upright.

"What the hell was that?" He wasn't mad, just....confused? It was actually a pretty good punch.

Nesta was cradeling her hand, wincing and cursing under her breath.

Cassian laughed, pulling a wrap of cloth out of his pocket. He approached Nesta and reached for her hand. She nodded, and he spoke as he wrapped her knuckles and wrist.

"You have to tuck your thumb down like this-" He demonstraeted as he continued wrapping. "Or the fist will always be too lose and hurt."

Cassian tucked the tail of the fabring into intself at her palm and began the other hand.

"You also cannot straighten your arm, or the shock will hurt your elbow. Plus you get more power from a bent arm."

"But it's a good place to start?" Nesta looked up at him and asked.

Cassian smiled down at her. He was done wrapping her hand, but he still held it like a delicate rose in his own.

Nesta winded up to punch him again.

"Woah, hey!" He stopped her fist mid air.

"Would you stop doing that?" He dropped her fist as she stepped back, opening and closing her fistsas if discovering them for the first time.

She looked up at him. "When you look at me like that I'm going to punch you."

Cassian blinked. "Look at you like what?"

Nesta started walking toward the makeshift ring, still opening and closing her fist.

"Like I'm fragile or delicate. You and I both know that isn't true and it's just going to get in the way of you training me if you think I can't take a hit."

Cassian jogged to catched up to her. "Nesta, you can't take a hit. You don't know-"

She turned on her heel and threw another punch just as Cassian caught up to her. He ducked, feeling the phantom wind from the punch graze his cheekbone.

He grasped her wrist before she could retract her fist and pulled her arm over his shoulder. His other hand wrapped all the way around her waist, grasping the elbow of her other arm and fully pressing her body against his.

Effectively trapping her, but Nesta didn't struggle against him.

Only met him with eyes filled with such fire he started sweating.

"Stop. Trying. To punch me." He whispered, their faces to close that the tip of his nose brushed hers as he spoke.

Nesta's eyes hardened, deep and cold. "Are you going to discipline me, sweetheart?"

His suprise loosened his grip ever so lightly.

Nesta smiled like a true witch and her knee was in his groin.

"Nesta!" Jaida ran toward the pair, Cassian now doubled over.

"Twice." He rasped as Jaida stopped before him. "This has happened twice."

"If you don't want to be treated like a boy on a schoolyard, I suggest not acting like one."

Cassian looked up at Nesta, "Are you joking me?"

Nesta's lips curled up, if only a bit. "You know I'm not."

"Okay." Jaida clapped her hands together.

"Cassian-" She looked down at him, still hunched over, hands to his crotch. "You sort...yourself out."

Nesta crossed her arms. Jaida turned to her, pointing a finger at her. "Nesta, you come with me, dove."

Jaida started walking and Nesta fell into step behind her. Cassian braced his hands on his knees, the pain still reverberating through him as he watched Nesta throw him a vulgur gesture as she sauntered away.

He cackled and fell to the ground.

____________________________________________

Inside the tent, Verra and Jaida explained everything.

These females had been getting up before dawn every morning for weeks to train. It had been Jaida's idea, and she was even the one who spoke with Serra about leading the training. Serra had begun with only 13 females, and now it had grown into a kind of morning ritual, a small repreive before the day began. Cassian only knew about it becasue Lori had informed Az of it, who then told Cassian.

Nesta sat between the females in the latern lit tent. "And Devlon knows none of this?"

They both shook their heads. In the long med tent, meant to hold 30 or 40 Illyrians, the emptiness of the questions rang too loudly.

Nesta wrung her hands in her lap, scared to ask. "What would happen if he found out?"

Jaida sighed, brushing her hands along her thighs, smoothing her dress.

"Well, he would shut it down, no doubt. He would try to hide it from Rhysand, which-"

"Rhysand doesn't know?"

"Rhysand is on the verge of war on two seperate fronts. The last thing he needs to worry about is us."

Verra smiled desipte themselves. "And if it's out saftey he would be worried about, I think it's safe to say that we've learned how to handle ourselves."

Jaida glanced sidelong at Verra.

Verra only shrugged. "Don't you think?"

"I have to agree." Nesta spoke, noting Jaida's restrained smile as the female in white glanced down.

"Nesta," Verra said, "I know about what happened in Velaris. About..." They gave a pointed glance at the Dragons Breath Opal on the choker Nesta wore. She absent mindedly put a hand to it, finding it unnaturally cold, even in the chill mountian morning ait.

The healer spoke gently. "While Cassian will be training you to fight," They held out thier hand, a small kernel of gold appearing in thier palm. "I will be working with you to see what your magic can do. Thank kind of power is something seen rarely."

Verra gave a pointed glance toward the flap of the tent before continuing.

"One condition is that we have to keep it a secret from-"

Cassian burst through the flap, his overshirt tied around his waist and hair pulled back. He was bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, always moving and ready for action.

"What's the matter, hotshot, you don't want to punch me anymore?" He sneered at Nesta, nodding at the other two females in the tent. He tugged on the end of Nesta's braid and dipped out of the way before she could whip around.

"Leave the poor females alone and lets go, sweetheart!" Cassian shouted as he exited the tent.


	20. Chapter 20- The Web That You Weave

"Eyes up, keep dancing, keep light on your feet." 

Cassian stood in the ring, demonstrating the 'safe way' to train. 

Nesta wasn't really paying attention to that, though. 

No, this morning Cassian had chosen a dark green undershirt, more of a tank-top, completely exposing his upper chest and his arms, now curled up toward his face, muscles tight. 

His fists were wrapped, just like he had wrapped hers earlier that morning, and he was staring off to the edge of the forest. 

Nesta prowled outside the ring, changing her position not only to get a batter view of what he was demonstrating, but to get a better view of him. 

After removing her from the med tent, Cassian had insisted they go on a run. Training had begun. It felt like miles and miles, endlessly through the forest. Cassian didn't let her stop once, always shouting behind him 'keep up!' or 'come one'! 

She had only survived the run out of spite.

Not to mention the run had been 15 minutes, and Cassian had been dancing in that ring for 10 minutes. Nesta had simply stood there, watching.

Nesta crossed her arms, the leather of her vest shifting. Jaida and Verra were back in the healers tent doing whatever magical things they were doing. 

Jaida informed Nesta she would have an hour with Cassian, she would 'shoo' him off somwhere, and then they would have thier magic training. 

That hour would be very long if Cassian never let Nesta into the ring. She ached to learn, to fight, to train. All those months ago, when he first asked her to train with him, that same fire welled inside her. She had only said no because then she couldn't stand being around the dark Illyrian in front of her. 

With the view she had of his backside right now, though, she supposed she didn't mind him as much anymore. 

"And really work to dig your heels into the ground-" He demonstrated a slow motion movement, his arm arching through the air, his back heel lifting off the ground and rotating with his body. 

"Like that." 

Nesta sat on a rock surrounding the ring. "Ok." 

Cassian turned to face her and Nesta immideatly snapped her eyes up to meet his. 

"Why are you sitting, sweetheart?" He breathed, still prancing from one foot to the next. 

Nesta snorted.

"This is a wonderful show and tell presentation, really, it is. I'm simply failing to see how watching you punch nothing will teach me to fight." 

Cassian rolled his eyes, and Nesta added, "But if you had more prepared by all means continue." 

His voice was smug. "I'm not letting you in this ring until I know you know how to safely train."

Nesta leaned against the rocks surrounding the ring. "You can't teach me that in the ring?" 

Cassian tightened the fabric over his knuckles, looking sideways at her. 

He grunted and turned away, tightening his bun. 

Nesta took the oppertounity to hop over the rocks and into the ring. As soon as her feet hit the stone, Cassian whirrled around and threw a punch. 

But Nesta hadn't only been admiring the Illyrians ass. She had been watching.

She let her feet prance like his, side stepping the punch. Her body moved faster, like there was no lost time between her brain and her movements. Like this Fae body was made to do this. 

Cassian didn't let up, twisting and throwing a left hook. Nesta was less prepared for this one, stumbling before she could truly take a step back. She ducked, whimpering slightly to herself at the rush of wind on the top of her head where Cassian's fist passed where her face had just been. 

"Hey," Cassian backed up, voice softer. "You have to be lighter on your feet. Get up, let's go." 

Nesta straightened to find Cassian a few feet infront of her, weight shiftig and fists up. 

His smile was vicious and his wings flared.

"Put 'em up, sweet-" 

"Stop calling me that." Nesta hissed at him as she tried to copy the way Cassian was holding his hands. Her right arm she kept tucked closest to her body, fist closed tight and resting just below her right eye. Her left arm was slightly more extended toward him, right at eyeline and out further from her face. 

She stood in the center of the ring, face to face with the male who would be her tormentor throughout this training process. As he dropped his hands, she somehow wished she was still outside the ring.

Nesta held firm to her stance, fists up, staring at Cassian. He circled her like a shark, pointing out weakness and improvments to be made to her form. 

Cassian's calloused fingers brushed the back of her leg. "Bend you knees, let the weight sink into the ground and center you." 

Nesta did. 

Cassian's hand pulled her waist back gently. "Your putting to much weight on your front leg." 

Nesta shifted back. 

Cassian pressed agaisnt her back, wrapping his arms around her to pull on her elbows. "Tighter, keep those elbows in." 

Nesta did. 

This went on, and just when her thighs were screaming from the half squat and her patience was wearing thin, Cassian said from behind her, "Ok, relax." 

Nesta sighed, extending and contracting her fingers. She rolled her wrists a few times, shook out her legs. It all felt very forigen. Physicality had never come easily to her as it so clearly came easily to Cassian. She had expected some embarassment, some self conciousness in training with him, but that drop had never settled in her stomach. 

Not yet, at least. 

"So I know how to hold a pose for a long time, I suppose that could help me be a muse, how-"

Cassian was infront of her before she could blink, already throwing a punch right at her eyes. 

She shreiked and threw her hands up, almost falling backwards onto the stone. 

But no impact came. 

Nesta opened her eyes slowly, looking between her fingers at Cassian. 

His white knuckled fist was an inch from her face. 

"It's not just about how long you can hold it. You have to memorize that feeling, where each joint goes, how much to bend your knees, where your fists fall in your eyeline." He explained, not moving his fist. 

She had no words. White hot fear scorched her throat. He had been so close to punching her. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that.

Hazy memories of a rainy night when a man had put hands on her clouded her mind.

Cassian dropped his arms to his sides. Nesta listened and wrapped hers around herself, taking a few steps back. 

"The muscle memory will kick in and you'll be ready for action if you memorize what that feels like. Same with punching, sword play, even magic."

Nesta nodded. Cassian seemed like he wanted to say something, taking a deep breath, but he said nothing. 

She put her arms up, going back to that formation. She let it center her and still her, the earth beneath her leeching the fear as she breathed. Her throat still tasted like mud.

Cassian came around her, right back into General mode. 

"Straighten your-" He put a hand on her wasit. 

Nesta flinched away from him.

Cassian retracted his hand as if he'd been burned. 

"Nesta..."

"No, I'm sorry. Sorry, I just..." She dropped back into the form. "I'm fine." 

Cassian still didn't move to continue. 

"Just... don't touch me right now. I'm fine." 

Still the Illyrian made no move toward her. A type of worry Nesta had only felt from him a few times drifted toward her down that golden thread. Something deeper- maddening anger- trailed behind it.

Nesta was unwavering, though, turning her head and hissing. "It will pass. Lets go." 

Finally, Cassian broke his trance and stepped toward her again. He did not touch her as they continued.

The rest of training was spent going over other basic forms- offense, defense, surrounded, ect. By the time they were done, Nesta realized how Cassian was so fit. If this was just the begenning of thier training- standing in one position- and it wore her out like this, Nesta didn't know if she could handle when they started throwing punches. 

She didn't want to watch Cassian throw another punch. That fear had subsided, but the memory still lingered. Blended with that night a thousand years ago. She took a deep breath.

Jaida and Verra were yards from the edge of the ring when Cassian was critiquing her last position. This one was defensive, a deep squat with arms extended.

"You'll work the poor girl to death, Cassian, darling." Jaida sang, perching on a rock at the edge of the ring. 

"We're almost done, Jaida." He called to her, circling Nesta again. 

Nesta whole body burned, but she would not let up. She would be strong, she would gain strength. This was where she had to start. She was not weak.

"Don't sink into your heels." 

Nesta felt lightheaded. Her vision swam, little flies of white across the forest ahead of her. She blinked the sweat out of her eyes. She was not weak. 

"Focus. Don't lose it." He was harder to hear for some reason. Had he stepped away from her? 

Her legs were shaking. Her breathing was erratic. 

She was not weak.

"Drop out. Great job." 

She dropped to the ground, her head between her knees. Nesta's head was in a cloud, in the mist. 

She was not weak. 

Cassian was saying something to her. Jaida was saying something to Cassian. Nesta felt like they were worried. 

She closed her size of the bond and simply gave them a thumbs up. 

She was not weak.

She faintly heard the beating of wings, Cassian leaving the training grounds.

Jaida's voice echoed in her ears, asking her something, but Nesta's stomach refused to listen. Nesta barely made it over the side of the surrounding rocks before she wretched up her breakfeast. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Cassian dropped down in front of Rhys and Feyre's cabin. He prayed they were appropiate as he knocked on the door. 

Jaida had told him Rhys had wanted to see him, and seeing how his brother and his high lady were going to leave in two days he wanted to see them anyway. 

The knock was answered with a "One moment!" from Feyre from inside, followed by shuffling and giggling. While he was happy his brother was happy, Cassian had to admit it was midly infuriating seeing them get to be the storybook couple all the time. He wished Az and himself could somehow be so lucky. 

Rhys's face appeared as the door openeed just a crack. Those voilet eyes lit up, the door opening the rest of the way to let Cassian in. "It's just Cassian!" Rhys shouted back into the cabin as Cassian stepped in. 

It was not unlike those he had stayed in before. A small kitchen area to the left, a table and a few chairs to the right. At the opposite end of the cabin a fireplace and a comfy couch in front. The stairs leading to the open balcony bedroom on the bunk second floor creaked as Feyre bounded down. A small living space, but comfortable. Perfect for one or two people. Simple to decorate and take care of. 

Plus, no crazy old men waking you up with a cane to the head. 

Cassian smiled and shook his head as he took in his brother and his high lady. Rhys didn't have a shirt on, his pants clearly very sloppily thrown on as they seemed to be on backward. Feyre wore a cotton nightdress, Rhys's shirt to match his backwards pants slung over it. 

"Really?" Cassian scoffed as Feyre walked past him into the small kitchenette area. 

Feryre laughed, opening a cabinet and pulling out three mugs. "You'll get it someday." 

Rhys added, sitting down on the couch infront of the fireplace, "You poor innocent boy." 

Feyre laughed again at that, and Cassian sent her a glare. She merely patted his chest in apology and handed him a mug of warm tea. "My favorite kind." She said, carrying the two other mugs. Cassian followed her to the fireplace. 

Ferye dropped down beside Rhys, curling her legs underneath her and wrapping her hands around her mug. Cassian found a spot on the arm chair nearest the fire. 

"Jaida sent me over, she said you wanted to talk to me?" Cassian asked, blowing on his tea. 

Rhys set his tea on the small table before the couch. "Well, she's psychic, because yes I do." 

Things had been....weird with Rhys lately. Cassian knew they were trying to conceive, and it seemed to be an annoyance to the high lord to spend even a moment away from Feyre trying for a baby. Mor and Amren had handled a lot of the Nigh Court dealings as both the High Lady and Lord were often occupied with eachothers company. 

Cassian hoped they would conceive soon, not only because he wished nothing but happiness for them, but also because he missed them. He missed the conversations, the laughing, the sparring. 

Cassian just missed his brother. He knew Az had the same feeling. Neither of them knew if a baby would make that rift close or widen. 

"How is she doing?" Feyre asked, snapping Cassian out of his head. 

He took a small sip of the hot tea. "As well as to be expected. Henery likes her, which is a good sign, and she's warming up to the hosue. This morning I-" 

"What about her training, Cassian? How is she doing with training?" Rhys interrupted. 

Feyre said nothing, the same question lingering in her eyes. 

"Oh." Cassian set his tea down. "I know you wanted me to start her last night, but I wanted to give her time. She needed to settle, she was... really overwhelmed." 

The High Royalty said nothing. 

"Nesta and I did start training this morning, though, and I am pleased to say that she is already progressing well. She seems to be using her siphons without knowing it, which is incredibly promising." 

Rhys stared him down. Feyre spoke, "I understand the need to make sure she feels comfortable, Cassian, but those few hours you didn't train her last night could make the difference in her fighting ability if war breaks out with the mortal queens." 

Cassian scrunched his brow. "She wouldn't have learned anything if she wasn't comfortable. She would have blocked it out, that's what Nesta does." 

"But you have to understand we don't have time to wait for her to feel comfortable, Cassian. She could turn the tide of the war." Rhys said, leaning foreward and leaning his elbows on his knees. 

"The last I heard," Cassian said, "We weren't at war yet. Has that changed?" 

"No," said Feyre, leaning an arm on Rhys. "However, every day it is looking more and more unavoidable. We need her, Cassian." 

Feyre smiled. 

"And she needs you." 

Rhys looked at his mate before continuing. "Nesta doesn't listen to us, we know that. But you..." 

Feyre shook her head at Rhys. He sighed before continuing. 

"She'll listen to you. Follow your orders, sh-" 

"I'm not ordering her around. Nesta is not a soldier." Cassian countered. 

Rhys's eyes darkened, if only a bit. "For us to win this war, she needs to become one. So I urge you, Cassian, to push her and train her harder then you've trained others." 

Feyre leaned in, an arm still draped over Rhys. "Her uncomfortability is a small price to pay for winning." 

"I don't like it any more then you do." She said, leaning back on the couch and sipping out of her tea. 

Cassian took a breath to speak, but Rhys interrrupted him. "We need her ready. We don't have the manpower after Hybern to win a war without her."

"We barely won Hybern." Cassian said under his breath. 

"I can't push her. I can't speed up her training. It's up to her how much she gets out of it, how hard she goes." He said, full voiced to the High Royalty before him. 

They blinked. He sighed, continuing, "But I will try my best."

Rhys nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll go back now, start another round up with her." Cassian stood, picking up his tea. 

Rhys and Feyre both stood as well, walking with him to the door. 

"Oh, Cassian, " Rhys stopped Cassian in the doorway, the mountian breeze raising goosebumps on his skin. 

"The blood rite is in 3 months, as you know, and I'm thinking of throwing a banquet for those participating. What do you think?" 

___________________________________________________________

Nesta sat in the med tent, concentrating to hard for her own good. 

After throwing all the liquid in her body over the side of a rock, Verra and Jaida helped her to the tent. She had over exerted herself, they said. Verra knew she wasn't eating well enough to support excersize like this, and suddenly giving her very empty stomach a full meal this morning had done more harm then good. 

Nesta knew Verra could sense what else had caused her collapse, but the healer said nothing.

The run had done the worst of it, Verra had explained. There was simply nothing left to fuel her, so her body started to shut off. A kind of emergency stop mode. 

Nesta was simply greatful that Cassian hadn't seen it. Not only would he have gone insane, asking Verra a thousand questions and getting in the way, but Nesta aslo meant to keep up her mantra. 

She was not weak. 

She saw the way Cassian looked at her in the ring. She should never have broke down like that infront of him, never had shown her hand in that way. He would be a mother hen, he wouldn't push her like she needed to be if he thought she was fragile or scared or weak.

That's what he thought. Cassian thought she was weak, not cut out for this, and every step on that run, every second holding a stupid pose was a test. 

Nesta intended to pass with flying colors. 

Nesta, however, was failing at the magic test. 

For the last half hour, Nesta had sat with Verra trying to conjure up a droplet of power. They had literally sat there, for a half an hour, staring at Nesta's palm as Nesta grunted and groaned and strained to somehow summon that power. 

How inconvient that it only wanted to rear it's ugly head when Nesta was emotional? 

"It's okay." Verra said after Nesta let out the breath she had been holding and closed her palm. 

"No, it's not. I should be able to do this." She said, wrapping her hand into a fist. It was like there was a plug, a dam holding everything back. A door she didn't have the key too. 

Verra looked at Nesta, seemilgly perplexed. "I think I may have an idea." 

They reached into their pack on the bed behind them and pulled out an apple. 

Nesta remember the events of that week. Had the Sidra blast only been two days ago?

"Decay..." She breathed, grabbing the apple from Verra.

"The doorframe and the plants..." Verra nodded. 

"We can start with some kind of conduit, somethign to channel it into, and then we can work on creating it raw." 

Nesta nodded.

The healer closed Nestas fingers around the apple. "Try now." 

Nesta focused on the apple in her hands. 

This time, she dug into the well she kept inside of her, the well of things she hid away, the things she wanted to stay hidden. 

She let the stinging cold of the anger and hatred and sadness bubble over, that cold spreading through her body. 

She willed the stolen ghost that lived inside of her to surface. 

A finger raised to a crooked king. A boy holding her down. Mud in her mouth. 

Nesta's eyes squeezed shut as she pushed through the memories that monster awakened and focused on pulling up the void that lived within her. 

"Breathe, Nesta. You're doing great." Verra said from somewhere distant. 

Still, Nesta obeyed, the deep breath, the sweel of her lungs filling not with air but with that white hot void from within her. 

When it was roilling in her stomach, she visualized sending it down her arm and into her palm. She focused the energy, the magic, feeling the siphons leech and ebb and flow to help ease the strain. 

"Dark Hel..." Verra whispered. 

Nesta opened her eyes to watch the apple in her plan rot from the bottom up, wrinkling and discoloring as the white magic snaked up it like a vine. 

The sight scared Nesta so much she gasped and dropped the apple. 

The rotted fruit burst like an absess on the ground.


	21. Chapter 21- Gutted

They had used the forest behind the tent after they used the three apples Verra had brought. 

Every time, Nesta lay her palm flat on a tree. And every time she was able to channel that beast inside her to flow through her skin and decay part of the tree. Only the size of her hand, leaving an ashy handprint.

It scared her. How easy it was, like an extenstion of herself. It scared her that the voice that had been screaming at her for a year, the voice that threatened Cassian, was deadly quiet as she worked. 

Letting it out was the easy part. Reigning it back in and burying it back down was significantly harder. 

Still, with each attempt on the trunk of the towering oak before her, it became easier and easier to quell the fight of the void as she pulled it back inside of herself. She practiced pushing it out and pulling it in like a tide. Feeling it wash and wave through her brought that fear of submersion up to her throat, closing her off and tightening her down. When that would happen, though, when Verra noticed, Nesta felt thier small warm hand on her back. 

"I am here. You are here." The healer would say, then step back and let Nesta continue her work. 

It became second nature after an hour, and when the golden thread of the rising sun wove through the purple and blue of the dawn, Jaida stepped to Nesta. 

The woman in white placed her palm on Nesta's hand, stopping Nesta cold in her pulsing. 

"Nesta, we can be done for today." Her voice was a soothing breeze down Nesta's spine. 

She nodded, taking her hand off the tree and shaking it a few times and taking a deep breath. 

She observed the oak. 

The trunk was marred by five or six handprints, all different levels of ash or rot. By looking at it, one could tell where Nesta had made progress, as the handprints got smaller and smaller. The first was a large grey blob, the rot going further to turn the bark to ash. They became finer and more concentrated, until the last one was the perfect shape of her hand, the dark greenish rot looking almost like it belonged to the tree. 

Nesta was numb. 

"Are you alright?" Jaida asked, stepping around to take Nesta's shoulder. 

Nesta responded, "I'm fine, I need some water and somewhere to sit down." She swiped at a drop of sweat on her brow. 

Verra was already ahead of her though, whipping out a canteen and handing it to Nesta as the trio walked back through the forest to the tent. No one spoke as they marched through the heavy woods. Nesta looked back to find that the tree she had been working on was completely covered by the thick wood. It was perfectly hidden, her destruction buried by growth and life.

Nesta was numb. 

Verra put a hand out when they were at the edge of the forest, the healer peeking thier head out of the wood line. Nesta realized they were checking for a particular winged dog to make sure no one saw them exit the forest. When thier hand waved, Jaida and Nesta followed them to the tent. 

They sat in the tent, drinking water and munching on the few dried berries and nuts. Nesta didn't take the snack, claiming to still be neasous. 

But that wasn't true. 

She looked at the floor between her feet. Nesta heard what the two Illyrians were saying, but she wasn't exactly listening. 

"-how quickly you could adapt and refocus that magic is... Nesta, it's unprescedented..." 

She merely nodded. She could feel it, sinking inside of her. Dragging her down, down, down

A siren song, a sweet abyss called to her from the bottom. Magic was alive, breathing. It was patient with here this past year, waiting in a silent slumber. 

She had been foolish enough to think after the dragon had awoken it wouldn't defend its gold.

She had been foolish to attempt to outrun it. 

"Nesta?" A soft brown boot under a green frock appeared before here. 

When Nesta looked up, Rosie was looking down at her, Jaida and Verra behind her. 

"You're late." The blonde bombshell said down to her, a slight smirk on her face. 

Nesta willed herself up, back to the surface, back into the tent, back into the world. 

"Late for what?" 

Jaida put a hand on Rosies shoudler. "Breakfeast." 

______________________________________________________________________

Three hours later, when the sun was almost directly overhead, Nesta collapsed in Rosies tent. 

She had spent the morning running around the tents doing various jobs. 

Nesta had assumed that the whole of the women were forced to work for the whole of the men. She didn't know why she thought that was how it worked, but she was mistaken. The tents, the community she had found, was truly on it's own. No other Illyrians came over the hill all morning. 

The behavior displayed to the women by the men in public she had witnesses thus far had been utterly appauling. With the comfort of privacy and home Nesta could only imagine what breakfeast was like for every Illyrian wife, daughter, sister. 

She wondered what breakfeast was like for Iona. Or Lori. Any of them. 

Delivering hot bowls of oatmeal mash to those who could not stand or walk. Serving those who could not serve themselves. Making sure everyone had something to eat, something to drink, and the company of a kind face. 

That was what Jaida had told her to do. So that's what she did. 

Though she had dragged herself from the numbness, the fall she had begun. She could feel the depth growing, the tentacles of darkness refusing to let her completely resurface. 

Still, helping the Illyrians made her heart lift.

She saw an entire array of people. Mostly females, but more males then she expected. Each and everyone of them beyond greatful for a simple hot meal in the morning. 

There was an older woman with eyes like a fire and skin like charcoal who was missing both of her legs. She smiled a toothless smile at Nesta as she gave the female her bowl.

A young boy with curly orange hair and skin starred with freckles. He could not hear or see, his mother told Nesta as she gave them thier food. 

A female her age, eyes like the night sky and skin like the dusk, who was marked with so many scars Nesta could not tell where they began and ended. One side of her head was covered in them, half of her head bald. Burns, Nesta realized as the kind female thanked her on her way out.

After the three hours, Nesta saw the tent community in a different light. It was not a collection of tarp shelters for those oddballs in society. 

Lives, Nesta relaized. Each tent represented a life. A life destroyed, uprooted, by millenia old sensless predjuces and biases. 

So many people, deemed unfit simply because they had some uniquness that made them different. Nesta knew why Jaida pushed Devlon, why she goaded Rhys onto her side. 

Her whole life had been dedicated to these people. To making a better life for them. Jaida was passionate about the femlaes, yes, but her front line was here. Her sword and shield was showing up for these people, making them meals, getting them supplies. 

The war Jaida was fighting would not be won on a battlefeild. 

Nesta could tell throughout breakfeast Jaida was scampering about, checking in on everyone and making sure everyone had everything they needed. She was making a list. A list she would bring to Devlon. A list of demands, a list of requests for those who lived here. 

Jaida was fighting a war of minds with Devlon. A war of wit with a male who had none. 

Nesta was not worried about those she met in that three hours. She would do anything she could to help them, be at Jaida's beck and call if they needed more hands, but Nesta was not worried. 

This war was one Jaida could win, an army of one. A force of nature all her own. 

A diety. 

The image of all the Illyrian women who were training earlier that morning parting around her and placing a hand on her had a new meaning to Nesta. Many of those same women were here this morning, listening and obeying every word Jaida said. 

Waiting for a command like good soldiers. 

Nesta laughed to herself as Rosie entered the tent. 

"What?" The blonde female asked as she sat down in the chair across from the bed, untying her boots. 

Nesta looked at Rosie, feeling a smug look drawn on her face. "Do you want an army?" 

________________________________________________________________

Cassian was frustrated. 

The group of females scheduled to train with him and the rest of the males had not shown up. Specifically, Iona hadn't shown up. Iona also had not been at the earlier morning training.

He went from Rhys's and Feyre's cabin to the large training ground- on the opposite end of camp from the females training plateu- and was greeted with obident an eager males. 

Not one female. 

He had gone through the morning, shouting and excersizing the males, but it felt like a futile effort. With each training session absent of females the unrest and gender divide only grew. 

Nesta needed to agree to help. She simply had to. 

Cassian rounded the bend in the gravel and faced Iona's house. Her brothers house. 

Terthal had always been a thorn in Cassian's side. About Cassians age, Iona's older brother rose in ranks almost as fast as Cassian had. He was a major player in the war, but he sustained a devestating injury, prohibiting him from fighting. For all the asshole he was, he was still a brilliant strategist, conceiving some of the most brutual plans of attack that Cassian had ever seen. 

That knowledge only made him more wicked. It made Cassian even more concerned for Iona. 

The female could hold her own, but she was terrorified of her brother. Her husband and two other brothers of hers died in the war, so she had an almost paralizing fear of losing Terthal. 

Cassian bounded up the steps and rapped his knuckle on the door. 

Once. Twice. Three times. 

Nothing. 

"This is your General. Open up, Terthal." 

A beat. Silence. 

Cassian pounded on the door with his fist. This was not good. 

A groan sounded nearby. 

Cassian heightened, listening for it again. His whole being stirred with dread. 

Heavy breathing, a female voice trying to say something. Coming from the side of the house.

Iona. 

"No."

Cassian ran down the steps and around the side of the house, his fear boiling the fight inside of him.

"Iona?" He called, searching the high windows of the first and second floor. He found nothing, calling out again. 

"Make some noise for me, gentle giant, come on." 

From below him. From the small barred window into the basement, inches from his feet.

Cassian dropped to his chest, his hands gripping the bars. He couldn't see into it, light only being cast into one small section of the basement, but from what he could see it was a makeshift dungeon. He didn't have to see it, he could smell the blood. 

"No, NO. Iona keep making noise!" She groaned, gasping fro air. 

Cassian didn't let the tears form, didn't let the reality of what he was going to find sink in. He ran around to the back door, ripping it open.

She loved to fly. 

They had flown together as they grew up. 

"NO."

The door to the basement was open. Terthal was not there, the male's distinctive scent missing from the cabin. He had not been here for a while. 

His throat tightened at the smell of Iona's blood. Shit. No. Fuck. Please.

Cassian bounded down the stairs, hearing his voice echo down the stone staircase as he called "I'm coming, I've got you! I'm here, Iona!" 

His feet hit the dirt floor. It was till to dark to see. "Iona?" He asked into the darkness. 

The small window which he had peered through was the only source of light in the space, illuminating the middle of the small basement. 

Cassian's stomach dropped. He was right to call it a dungeon. 

There were knives, whips, barbs- weaponry Cassian only thought existed in nightmares hung on the walls. A small table half lit held scattered blades, all clearly having been used. 

There was so much blood. It oozed into the light, seeping into the dirt, the air thick with the smell. 

The raddle of chains sounded from the darkness. On the table, on the far side, hidden in darkness, Cassian could barley make out a large hand.

"General?" Iona's voice was raspy and weak. It echoed off the walls, indicating to Cassian that she was facing the wall. 

Cassian crouched, trying to make out her form in the darkness. "I'm here, Iona. I'm right here." 

He couldn't breathe. Not Iona. Not the gentle giant. Not Henery's only daughter.

"I'm..he kept telling me..." A soft sob escaped her.

"I'm chained up, I can't move. I think it's infected." 

Cassian stayed low, shuffling foreward to just make out her form. "The light doesn't reach you, Iona, I can't see you. I need you to try to come toward me. Can you back up at all?"

A sob. A sniffle. Cassian's eyes welled. Not Iona. 

"My feet.." The chains rang like an omen as she shuffled her way back. 

Her wings hit the light first. 

What was left of them. 

The once glorious expansion of power was now reduced to two bloody structures protruding from her back. Terthal had cut and ripped all the membranous tissue out, leaving only the bony skeleton of her wings. Strips of the tissue clung to the exposed bone, the contrasting black, white, and red a painting of suffering. 

"General?" She whispered. 

Cassian tore his eyes from her raveged back. He crept around her, noting her bloodied dirty clothes from the day before and how her hair was matted in the back with dark red and her own flesh. 

Her golden eyes met his. The life he had so often found comfort in had made way for...nothing. Her eyes were empty. She was empty. She knew what he had done to her. She knew she would never..

"Iona, we need to get you to a healer. Do you think you can walk?" He shook the thought out of his head. If he had been healed, there was hope for Iona. 

There had to be. 

"General, I need- " She said, with all the fire she could muster. 

"Water, food, anything you need, but we need to move first, Iona, we need to get you out of here." 

"Cassian." Iona met her forehead to his, centering his attention the best she could without her hands. 

He stopped. She was bleeding out. Her eyes were fading. 

"Yes?" He felt a tear fall down his cheek. 

Iona smiled. "I need you to get me to Nesta." 

Then Iona's eyes rolled back in their sockets and her head dropped, her whole body going limp.


	22. Chapter 22- Back to the Sun

Iona's little legs pumped as hard as they could. The toddler huffed and puffed as she ran toward the edge. 

Just like her father had told her, she opened her wings, letting them catch the air as she ran. 

Her feet fumbled at the unanticipated drag, only setting her back a second before she adjusted and picked up the pace.

"That's it, wildflower, keep runnin'!" Her father called to her from where he was flying just off the ledge ready to catch her. 

"I'm comin', popop!" Iona smiled wide, feeling the wind whip through the gap where she had lost her two front teeth just the other day. 

She took three more hard steps, leapt off the edge, and pumped her wings. 

And then, Iona was flying. 

_________________________________________________

"Grab that gauze." 

"Soaked?" 

"In the salt water, yes."

Cassian had barely been able to get Iona to the healers. The small area carved into the mountian was furious with activity. 

Iona was on a table in the center, face down as they worked in her wings. More then once they had to flip her over and do chest compressions. The blood was everywhere. She still hadn't gained conciousness. 

Verra said that was a good thing for all the pain she would be feeling. 

Cassian handed the gauze to Verra, who didn't even look up at him as they set to work wrapping it around an elongated bony mass. 

They had to clean every tendon and bone. When it was all said and done, Iona would only have black flesh over the bones, no where else. No membrane, no tendons were salvagable. In many places, the white of the bone was visible.

Wings of a skeleton. 

Cassian knelt in front of Iona, still passed out on the table.

He kissed the top of her head and held her hand as the healers continued.

____________________________________________________________________________

And then, Iona was falling. The drop sent her gut to her throat, sent the blood rushing to her head- still, she didn't cry out. 

She knew her father was right there to catch her, so she wasn't scared. 

As she felt the arms wrap around her and gently fly back to the earth, Iona crossed her arms and pouted. 

Her father landed on the ground softly, just before the edge of the plateau. This was their spot. This was where they went to fly. 

Iona scooted to the edge and dangled her chubby legs off, resting her elbows on her thighs and holding her chin with her hands. 

"Oh, Iona." Her father said down beside her. 

"What am I doing wrong, popop? I'm runnin' as hard as I can!" She huffed as she leaned against him. 

He smiled, kind and gentle, and kissed the top of her head as he brought his massive wings around her tiny shoulders. 

"It's not about the run, wildflower. It's about the jump." He grabbed her little hand. 

"Tell me the story again?" Iona asked, looking up at him. 

He laughed, deep and loud. "You want to hear that every day, little one." 

Iona stood and ran to the edge of the forest, not three feet away. She knelt in the weeds, picking a blue flower and a white flower. 

She turned and ran back to her father who was watching with a smile warmer then the oncoming sunset. She twisted the stems together and wrapped them around eachother to form a kind of ring.

"Now tell me the story?" Iona asked, handing the floral ring to her father. 

"I would have told you anyway, Iona." He grabbed her little hand and put the floral ring on her pointer finger. 

Iona crawled into her fathers lap as he begun a story she had memorized. 

"When I was a boy, I met a girl made of flowers." 

_____________________________________________________________________________

"She should wake up in the next twenty-four hours. If she's still unconcious tommrow morning we'll re-assess her situation." Verra spoke clearly and frankly to Cassian. 

Cassian nodded. Verra was sitting on a stool next to Cassian, brushing back Iona's hair. They had washed it to get the blood out.

"She told me to get her to Nesta." Cassian said. "What did she mean? Nesta isn't ready to see carnage like this. This is-" 

Verra scoffed. "Nesta is carnage, Cassian. Just because you're her..." Verra stilled and looked to Cassian. 

"So you know then?" His heart dropped.

"Everyone does. It's palpable when you're together." 

Cassian sighed. "Great." 

Verra put a hand on his shoulder. "Just because you are hers and she is yours does not mean you can decide things for her. Was that the last thing Iona said to you before she lost consiousness?" 

Cassian nodded.

"OK, I'll be back." Verra walked toward the door. 

"Where are you going?" He lifted his head from the table, streching his arms above his head. 

Verra didn't look at him as they opened the door. "I'm going to get Nesta." 

Cassian jumped up, a kind of posessivness filling him. "Verra, you cannot let her see this." 

Verra was already out the door. 

Cassian crossed the room and followed, the sunlight of midday nearly blinding him after being in Verra's darkened workspace. 

"I'm telling you, Verra, stop." Nesta wasn't ready. She would collapse, she would be livid she-

"Iona is my patient. If her last request was to see Nesta, I am going to honor that." 

Cassian said nothing as they turned. They didn't start walking, though. 

Verra said over thier shoulder, "I know you're trying to protect her. She knows that. But you don't get to decide what you need to protect her from. I think you know more then most that she is more then capable of swalloing down feelings or frustrations. I know she won't react well to this." 

They turned to face Cassian. 

"But I am not interested in in ignoring what may be my friends last request because you're scared of how your girlfreind might react. I'm sorry, Cassian." 

And with that, Verra turned and walked away. 

Cassian was drained. He had failed Iona, he had failed Nesta. Try as he may nothing was working to help the Illyrian women and now Verra thought he was a posessive asshole. 

Right there, outide the stone home that help the Illyrian with the skeleton wings, he crouched and put his head in his hands. 

Was it too much to ask for one day? One day's repreive from the reality of this? 

____________________________________________________________________________

"And the flowers spoke the name of the child." Iona giggled as her father made the small flower woman he created dance around the meadow.

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

Her father had flown the two of them back to the cottage. Iona could smell the baking of fresh bread through the open window as she sang with her father.

"And the sun spoke the name of the child." Her father grabbed her hands and spun her around, the flowers grazing her chubby toes. 

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

The sun was so bright today. Her father laughed as she fell to her belly, face down in a patch of daisys.

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

The sun kissed her skin as she breathed in the flowers. 

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

The sun....was the sun getting brighter?

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

"Hey, popop?" She called out. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. The sun was getting so bright it hurt to look at. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, but her arms were sluggish, slow. 

I-o-na I-o-na I-oooooo-nah

She couldn't move at all. The sun burned her back, a peircing hot white pain searing through her. 

She tried to scream. 

I-o-na I-o-na I-

"Iona?"


	23. Chapter 23- Tread Lightly

"Iona?" 

Her back was still burning. But she lay facedown on wood in a dark room. She hissed, bearing the pain to turn her head to see who was speaking. 

Her father.

Iona took a breath to speak, but she couldn't get any air in and moaned out the breath she already had. Any movement caused a searing pain along her wings. She couldn't take a big enough breath to speak, at least not yet. She squeezed her eyes shut, teeth bared warding off the hot stinging sensation. 

Her father's wrinkled hand caressed her face. "Don't try to speak, wildflower, you don't have to." 

Her lashes fluttered open as she pressed her cheek agaisnt her fathers hand as best she could. Her fathers eyes were deep and dark, a sadness she had only ever seen once before lingering there. 

A tear fell down his cheek in a zig-zag, falling into the wrinkles around his nose and mouth. 

"Your brother did this?" 

Iona tried her best to nod. 

"Oh, cauldron." Her father sobbed, his head falling into his free hand. Iona was crying, too. 

He looked up at her, wiping his nose and pushing up his glasses. Iona couldn't tear her eyes away from the tear drops gathered there. Someone needed to wipe them off or her father would have trouble seeing. 

"I am so sorry wildflower, I am so sorry." He ran his hand through her hair as he grasped her other hand in his. 

She struggled to breath, needing to say it. "Not..." She gasped, " Not your fault." 

"Shhh, baby, shhhh." He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, Iona. More then there are flowers in the meadow." He whispered into her hair. 

She gripped his hand, squeezing three times, trying to communicate in any way that wasn't painful. 

I love you too, popop. 

He pulled back, wiping her tears as they fell. Her father sniffled, taking a deep breath. 

"You asked for Nesta?" He questioned, her small nod in return answer enough. 

She needed to talk to Nesta. 

"Her and Jaida are outside. Can they come in?" He nodded to the door. 

Iona shook her head. 

"Just Nesta?" 

Iona shook her head. 

"Just Jaida?" 

Iona nodded. 

"Okay, I'll be right back, wildflower."

__________________________________________

Nesta hated all of her fae senses, but right then she hated her sense of smell the most. 

She could smell the blood. Heavy and metallic and hot. The herbs and medecines that the healers had used. She could smell it all. 

Cassian stood beside her. They were just outside the little healers hut. Jaida had mentioned it on the tour, but Nesta didn't think she was serious when she said it was carved into the mountian. And yet, here they were, leaning against a literal mountian waiting for Jaida to come out. 

Iona had asked to see Jaida first. Nesta couldn't hear anything from inside. 

She wrapped her cloak further around herself. 

The woman with the wingspan of three males now rendered wingless. 

Cassian had told her what happened after Verra had taken her from the tents. 

He had told her how he found in her brothers house and brought her to Verra. He had said how she was barely consious and lost obscene amounts of blood. Nesta knew he left out the finer details. She had hounded him about it, wanting to be prepared for what she was going to see. 

He had only looked at her and told her to brace herself as much as she could. 

Nesta didn't push to hard, though, to convince Cassian to tell her anything. She knew it was terrorifying for him to see this happen in his camp, to one of his own friends no less. 

Nesta understood that speaking something out loud made it real. She understood if Cassian wasn't ready for it to be real yet. 

So they stood in silence. Cassian was running his hand down his face, over the stubble that grew there. When her mind wandered to what that stubble would feel like under her lips, she pushed off from next to him and moved to stand infront of the door. 

Jaida had been in there for what seemed like forever. 

Still, neither of them spoke. This was not a moment for them. 

Nesta hadn't known Iona for long, nor had she known Iona well, but she did know that Iona was made of gold in a world of coal and a spirit like hers was rare. 

No one seemed to make it through Windhaven unbroken. 

Both of thier attention snapped to the door as Jaida exited. The smell intensified as Jaida brought it out with her. The female- still in all white as usual- shut the door quickly behind her, not allowing Nesta to see anything inside. 

Cassian crossed to Jaida in three steps as the female made a bee-line for Nesta. 

"How is she doing?" He asked, Jaida looking to him with soft eyes. 

The female rubbed the back of her neck. "She's better. Still not up for trying to sit up, but she is talking now and fully concious." 

Jaida's eyes met Nestas. "She's asked for you." 

Her mouth went dry. What did she want? Cassian had told Nesta how Iona had asked for her right before she passed out. What did that mean? 

Nesta nodded. She walked toward the door, suddenly seeming far to close. Her hand wrapped around the knob. The smell was so strong. 

Hating herself for it, Nesta turned and met Cassians eyes, a secret plea in her gaze.

Come with me.

He nodded. Stepping past Jaida and right by Nesta's side, Cassian put a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. 

Together, they entered the room carved into the mountian.

______________________________________________________________

"If this is what these males get away with when I am not here, Devlon-" 

"My lord-" Devlon stood before Rhys and Feyre, shaking like a dog. 

Az stood to the right of the High Lord, the royalty perched on the chairs they had claimed as temporary thrones in the main hall.

His shadows swirled as he eyed the warlord. "Your High Lord was not finished speaking." 

Lori watched from the High Lady's left as Devlon cast his eyes down. Pathetic. 

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance written on his face. 

"Do I need to replace you with someone who is capable of controlling the soldiers, Devlon?"

The warlord stilled. A blatant threat to his position. Presented by a man at the top of the ladder. Devlon was furious, and if it was anyone else speaking to him, he would have attacked by now. Lori held back a smile. I wish you would, she thought.

The High Lady spoke at last. "You were asked a question." 

Devlon met her eye, any fear dissapearing. "No." he simply replied. 

Her Lady's head tilted. "No, what?" 

The male before them tensed, furious. "No, my lady." He shifted his gaze to his high lord, the fear immideatly returning. 

"We will find Terthal, My Lord." Devlon said, much less bravado then how he spoke to the High Lady. 

The High Lord leaned foreward in his chair. "And he will be held accountable for his actions, Devlon."

The warlord nodded. "Yes, My Lord." 

"Dismissed." The High Lady waved her hand. Lori smirked desipte herself.

Devlon turned and stormed out of the room like a child. 

Lori turned to her High Lady. "Go better then you expected, My Lady?" 

"Hardly. Completely unhelpful, arrogant, ignorant. It's like he doesn't want to help." She rubbed at her face, signing as her mate put a hand on her back. 

He spoke to Az, "Keep everyone on alert, I want to know anyone who leaves camp. We need to find Terthal." 

Az nodded. Lori spoke, mainly to the spymaster. "I'm going to see if I can't get anything else out of him." 

"Good luck." The spymaster nodded to the door. 

Lori exited the main hall, already tracking Devlon. He wasn't careful, his stomping leaving obvious tracks to follow. Lori stalked through camp, the trail leading her behind the tavern where there was a makeshift gambling area, with tables and chairs and a tarp to protect from the elements. 

Lori stilled outside, hearing no voices and seeing no one approach. She slipped through the flap, hand on her knife. 

Devlon sat on a stool, drink in hand. "What do you want." 

Lori said cooly, "I want to know where Terthal is." 

He cackled, a hash cound that hurt her ears. "Oh, really. How could I have guessed."

"You're protecting him from more then just what he did to Iona, Devlon." 

Devlon finished his drink in one swig. "You don't know what you're talking about, sweets." 

She didn't let his obvious dig sink in.

"Rosie. Sera. Katrin. Gloreia." His eyes darkened as they settled on hers. 

He repeated, low and slow. "You. Do not. Know. What you are talking about." 

Lori nodded. "Maybe I don't." She stalked behind the bar and grabbed Devlons empty glass as she spoke. 

"Maybe I know nothing of the boys club you've created, of the 'goods and services' you've promised the soldiers." A bottle of clear liquid clinked against the rim of his cup as she poured him another drink. 

"How you've delivered on that promise." She capped the bottle. 

"You bitch-"

Devlon reached for his drink, pulling it back to himself, but once his hand firmly gripped it she wrapped her hand around the mug, pulling it and Devlon closer. 

Face inches from his, she whispered, "How is your wife doing these days, Devlon?" 

Anger, sadness, lonliness all flashed through his eyes at once. 

Lori let go of the glass, sending him back on his ass in the stool. She walked back around the counter and leaning against it next to the warlord. 

"Find Terthal. It's an easy request, considering you already know where he is. Bring him to the High Lady and Lord, and I might happen to forget about this encounter." 

She pushed off the counter, walking to ward the flap to leave when Devlon spoke under his breath. 

"Oh, you are a dangerous female aren't you?" He took a shaky sip from his glass. 

Lori went deadly still. "Dangerous female?" 

She faced the coward king, the male who she was supposed to respect. 

"Devlon, every female is dangerous." She stalked toward him. "Every female you pass in this camp is dangerous. Every female you've hit is dangerous. Your wife is dangerous." 

She took her knife out and stabbed it through his sleeve, trapping him under her gaze. 

"Every female you've silenced with promises or money or your pitiful cock is a dangerous female, Devlon." 

"I swear-" 

She tilted the knife foreward, the blade digging into his skin. He hollared, his other hand reaching for the kinfe but she grabbed it and twisted it behind his back. He struggled against her. 

"Every female- anyone- has the right to be dangerous when caged or herded or bred like animals."

She smiled in a way she knew made her look like a demon on the hunt.

"I will never-" She pushed the knife deeper, the smell of his blood tainting the air. "ever in this lifetime or the next forget about males like you. Males that make it not just necessary to be a dangerous female." 

She let go of his arm and pulled the knife from the counter at the same time. He fell foreward, but she grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her. 

"No, males like you make it fun." 

She shoved him back and turned, hearing his stool crash to the ground. Devlon screamed curses after her, damning her to every Hel that existed. 

Lori didn't hear him, though, and she wiped her knife clean of the swine's blood and continued walking.


	24. Chapter 24- Fire and Rain

Something settled inside of Nesta at the sight of Iona laying face down in the cot in the center of the room. 

Even in the dim lighting, a stark contrast from the sunlight outside, Nesta could make out the form of the females wings. 

Or what was left of them. 

They truly were the wings of a skeleton. With the white gauze wrapped around them, the sharp angles and smooth curves were indistinguishable from bone. They draped down the side of the cot, Iona having no control of them as they healed. 

Iona lifted her head and twisted to look at who had entered. Her face was pale, her hair damp, but somehow she still had a sparke in her eyes. 

She even smiled weaky as she met Nesta's gaze. "Hey, witch." 

Nesta gave a small smile in return. "Hi, Iona." 

Cassian stepped in and closed the door behind him, the candles in the room the only source of light. Iona gasped a bit at seeing him, and struggled from her position on her back to somehow sit up. She hissed with each movement and Nesta rushed to Iona as her elbow gave out. Nesta caught her weight and eased her chest back down to the table with a soft, "Hey, relax, it's okay." 

Cassian was there crouching beside the table, eyes to eye with Iona as she settled back down. 

"General, I don't know how to th-" She started, but Cassian gentle hand over Iona's. 

"You would have done the same for me. Or Sera, or Rosie, or any one of us." Nesta's heart warmed at the smile he gave her. "No thanks are in order, soldier." 

Iona smiled as bright as she ever had as she moved her hand to her forehead in a sort of salute. Cassian returned the gesture. 

It was the most tragically beautiful thing Nesta had ever seen. A tear fell down Cassian's cheek as he put his hand down, Iona doing the same. 

Iona turned her head to look at Nesta. Nesta offered a small smile, but smiling was really a new thing for her so she wasn't sure if it was kind or cruel. 

Either way, Iona said to Cassian, "You brought me to her." 

He chuckled, rubbing his chin again. "Yeah, are you two going to have girl time now?"

Nesta had half a mind to tug him out by his ear, but Iona responded, "Actually yes."

Both Cassian and Nesta looked to Iona. Nesta had never had girl time in her life. She wasn't even really sure what girl time was. 

"So you need to go now." Iona said, pressing a finger to Cassians chest and pushing him away from the table. 

"Are you serious?" He said, standing so he didn't lose his balance. 

Iona, now Nesta's new favorite person, brought her arm around Nesta's shoulders and tugged her to the end of the table and started talking into her ear. 

"So, when I was passed out, I had this dream about one of the officers and he-" 

Cassian covered his ears as he started walking toward the door. "Nope. I'm leaving." 

Nesta laughed as he shut the door behind him. Iona untangled her arm from around Nesta, chucking to herself. 

Nesta kneeled on the floor infront of the cot, resting her elbows on the edge to look at Iona. 

"We can talk about these officers you're dreaming about if you want, but you have to know I'm not very good at boy talk." She said as Iona lay her hands under her chin. 

"Oh, cauldron, no." Iona shifted. "I'm not really into men at the moment." 

Nesta furrowed her brow. "At the moment?" 

"Yeah, it's just that moment that's lasted the several centuries I've been alive." The illyrian lay her head down on her hands. 

"So no boy talk?" Nesta raised her eyebrows, eyeing Iona. 

"Well, yesactually, boy talk." Iona sighed, her eyes glazing over with a sadness Nesta couldn't place.

Nesta wasn't ever very good at comfort, but she figured now was a good a time as any to learn. She reached her hand out and wraped it around Iona's wrist, squeezing gently. 

I am here. You are here. I got you. 

"Do you know everything?" The female asked, lifting her head from her hands. 

Nesta looked down. "Yeah, Iona. I do." 

Iona suddenly covered Nesta's hand on her wrist with her own. Nesta had never realized how big Iona's hands were. They were calloused and warm.

"Then you know my brother did this. That he's missing."

"Yes." Nesta couldn't meet Iona's eyes. Her own brother, mutilated and- 

"I know where he is, Nesta." 

She snapped her steel eyes to meet Iona's. Something awoke in her at the determination she found looking back at her. 

"What do you mean?" She asked, shifted her weight to come closer to Iona. She knew there were sharp ears outside, and it was clear Iona didn't want everyone hearing this. 

"I mean," Iona started, still holding Nesta's hand, "He is part of a group of males in Windhaven that..." She stilled, not quite able to get words out of her mouth. "For money, for goods... we have no choice..I-" 

"Iona." Nesta squeezed her wrist gently. "I can only imagine. You don't have to talk about it if you aren't ready." 

The female nodded, her face sharp with anger and disgust. Nesta knew that look. She knew the shame it came with. 

Questions, questions to keep her mind away from that dark place. 

"How many males are involved in this, Iona?" Nesta ducked her head to meet Iona's eye. 

"I'm not sure. But I know many of the high ranking officers. We think-" Iona looked to the door before scooting herself closer to Nesta. 

"We know Devlon is involved. That's why Cassian can't know." She was hushed as she spoke. 

Nesta looked away, mind churning like the wind. "Cassian hates Devlon. So does Rhysand. Telling them-" 

It clicked. "Telling them would only get Devlon replaced." 

Iona nodded. "Not solving any problems. It would only anger Devlon and the group." 

"And if Cassian knew, the first thing he would do is bring it to Rhys who would bring it up to Devlon which would also do nothing." Nesta finished the thought. She looked back to Iona, who she could tell already had a plan. 

"What can I do?" Nesta asked. 

The Illyrian answered, slow and soft, like she was giving Nesta a fragile gift. 

"I want you to kill my brother, Nesta." 

She stilled. 

"And then we want you to kill Devlon." 

Nesta stopped breathing for a heartbeat. Her mind was so clear, so open.

For a split second, she was back on that beach. For a second she was grinding a knife into an evil kings throat. 

For what felt like a lifetime, Nesta was looking at the severed head in her hands. 

And she felt at peace. 

She looked back to Iona. "You know where he is?" 

Iona nodded. "Sera will go with you. She knows." 

Nesta didn't miss a beat. "How?" 

Iona thought for a moment. 

"Slowly." 

Nesta nodded.

And she felt at peace. 

"Consider it done." She whispered. Iona smiled. Nesta smiled back. 

Nesta stood, squeezing Iona's wrist one last time. 

Iona did not let go of Nesta's hand though. "What is it?" Nesta asked, dropping back down. 

Iona was still smiling. "Cassian once told me you reminded him of open flame." 

Her brows drew together. "Did he explain any further?" 

The illyrian nodded. 

"He told me while we were training and I said to him 'What does that even mean?' and he literally dropped the sword he was swinging to talk about you. He's so goofy like that." 

"Did you just describe Cassian as 'goofy'?" Nesta asked, kneeling back down to listen to Iona. 

Iona pointed a sideways hand toward her. "Do you disagree?" 

"No, but I usually use words like 'daft' or 'idiot'." She paused. 

"Is that mean?" 

Iona shrugged. "He likes it when you're mean to him." 

Nesta cocked her head. "Did he tell you that?" 

The Illyrian nodded, and Nesta laughed heartily. 

"It's part of the flame thing!" Iona said, "He said like a fire you're dangerous and unpredictable and it hurts to be close to you." 

Nesta's heart sank. Her head was filled with rainclouds. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I always do that." Iona said, shaking her head and letting go of Nesta's hand. 

But Nesta didn't get up. "He's not wrong." 

Iona smiled gently. "He also said, though, that without that fire you wouldn't be you. He said getting singed every once and a while was good for him." 

She remember what she had asked of him, how she had thought she snuffed his flame. How they thought of eachother as embers and ashes and sparks and heat. 

"Fire, for all it's danger, is lifegiving. Like you. For all the pain you've caused, he still needs you just to exist. He'll let you burn him for eternity." 

Iona shrugged. "I think you need him like that, too."

Suddenly that raincloud in her mind was thunderous. Not the kind of rain you hide from inside, though. It was the kind of downpour you dance in. 

Nesta smiled. "Thank you, Iona." 

The Illyrian smiled and nodded. "You know where to find me if you want boy talk." 

Nesta chuckled and stood. "I'll come by agian soon, okay?" 

"I think I'd like that." Iona smiled again. 

Nesta danced in the rain and returned that smile as she walked to the door and left. 

She closed the door, leaning her back against it, trying to digest all the infomation. 

Cassian was right there, though, right at her side the moment she closed the door. 

"How is she?" He said, concern in his features. His eyebrows scrunched together and lifted, lips parted slightly, his eyes scanning her face for any signs or clues. 

Nesta cleared her throat. "Good. She's.. she's doing good." 

He didn't let up, following right next to her as she started to walk back toward camp.

"So, what, you 'girl talk' now?" Cassian tucked one hand in his pocket, one hand fiddling with the top of his sword. 

Nesta shrugged, looking directly ahead to keep herself from looking how he swept his thumb in slow circles over the cool steel at his side. "If I do?" 

The gravel under thier feet crunched. "I'm just trying to keep up with you, that's all." 

"I thought you all wanted me to change. That's why I'm here is because all of you want me to change." 

Cassian stopped walking. "I don't." 

Nesta looked back at him from a few steps ahead.

"I can't speak for Feyre or Rhys or anyone else, but I know I don't." 

He looked at her. Saw her. Knew her very soul, knew which star she was plucked into existance from. 

"Stop." She whispered. She didn't feel like a fire. 

"Stop what, Nesta?" Her name on his tounge was a prayer.

"Stop looking at me like that." She was smoke on the wind. 

He walked, calmly, slowly up to her. Inches from her. Sparks. They were a wildfire. 

Cassian's eyes were mournful as he whispered, "I can't." 

Nesta was his mirror as she repsonded, "I know." 

She brought a shaking hand up and cupped his cheek, that teasing stubble poking into her palm. She did the same with her other hand, and Cassian leaned into the touch like a lonely dog, practically wimpering at the contact. 

His brown eyes were a song of peace as he brought his hands around her wrists, stroking the soft skin with his thumbs. 

Not pushing to take, just happy to receive. He closed his eyes and breathed in the touch, the rare physical connection she offered him. 

"You should stay with Iona for the day. Keep her company." His eyes were still closed as he hummed in response. 

Nesta smiled, tracing his cheek with her tumb as she continued. "I'm working today, but I'll see if I can't get Henery off to come over here too."

Agian Cassian absently murmurred in response, still leaning heavinly into her hand.

Nesta righted his head, holding it straight and pressing in ever so slightly to get him out of the trance. He opened his eyes and looked down at her as if he had just woken up from a long night's sleep. 

"Did you hear me?" She asked.

He kissed her palm. "You want me to say 'yes' to that question, right?" 

Nesta scoffed and pulled her hands away from his face, ready to singe his ass and walk away, but he slid his hand down her wrist and intertwined thier fingers. 

"Of course I heard you." He said, pulling her back toward him. "I'll stay with her. And don't feel bad if you can't get Henery out, he's going to stay with her tonight." 

Her smile felt so natural she didn't even notice it until Cassian smiled back, bold and bright. 

"What?" 

Nesta took his chin in her hand and raised to her tip toes to kiss his cheek. His stuble felt just like she imagined it would under her lips. She felt his cheeks flush as she pulled away. 

He was wide eyed, looking a food. She laughed, she really laughed, as she pulled her hand away from his. 

"Thank you." Nesta said as she continued walking toward the camp. 

She counted to ten, looked back, and Cassian was still standing there, wings puffed out, watching her walk away- one hand on his cheek holding her kiss to his skin.


	25. Chapter 25- It Would Not Be A Waste

Nesta's hands shook as she worked throughout the day. She was on laundry duty and lunch duty for the tents, so as soon as she left Cassian standing there she went straight to the edge of camp. 

She tried hard to ignore the change in the Illyrians. 

Women rarely showed face outside anymore. She didn't see any children. Maybe that was because they all thought she was evil, but Nesta knew that wasn't it. 

Word had gotten out about Iona. Females were scared. Iona was a loved member of thier little community, but more importantly a reminder that the women could have power just like the males. A statue to the capabilities they all had inside of them. 

And that statue had been torn down and ripped apart right under thier noses. 

The females were scared. 

In the tents, people were asking questions. 

Iona was a face they saw everyday, a female they all adored for all her kindness and purity. Jaida was the one to tell them, to deliver the news with the food. Nesta was cooking, and she bent over the large pot stirring some kind of soup that smelled heavenly. 

Nesta liked it in the tents. No one warded off evil as she passed, no one hid thier children behind thier backs. She wasn't odd or different or wrong here. This was a place for the odd and different. And who was to say what was wrong? No one, at least not here. 

She found herself spending the entire day there in the tents, listening to peoples stories and helping those who needed it. 

Carina, the older woman without legs, told Nesta a story about Iona. When she was little, apparently, Iona would fly through the tents, practicing her ariel skills. Henery- who had wings at the time- would fly around trying to catch her. Every weekend, Carina would put a daisy on the top of her tent and Iona would always take it and leave a peice of caramel.

The older female's brown eyes matched the glow of her dark skin in the afternoon sun streaming through the window as she spoke. Before Nesta left, Carina gave her a caramel candy. 

Nesta was debating on eating it while stolling through the tents when she heard a hushed psssst carried on the wind.

She lifted her head and tightened her cloak around her as she slowly turned, listening for the sound again. 

"Nesta!" A whispered scream.

She felt her cheeks blush as she spun around and found no one. Nesta scrunched her eyebrows, taking a few steps in the direction she thought the voice was coming from. 

Then suddenly there were two hands on her shoulders, pulling her into the darkness of the space between tents. 

She felt it around her fingers before she could wilfully summon it. That white hot magic at the ready. She had awoken it, and she was ready to fight with it. 

Rosie's hands dropped from Nesta's shoulder as she swore at the sight of the magic.

"Nesta it's us, stop it!" She said as Sera stepped in front of her- hand on her sword. 

Nesta breathed a sigh of releif as she coiled the magic back inside of her.

"You shouldn't pull people into corners, Rosie." She said, twitching her fingers to shake the sticky feeling the magic left. 

In this corner between tents, Nesta could barely make out the two females in front of her. She could tell it was Rosie because her blonde curls practically glowed. Sera was recogniziable because she was the only one who protect Rosie with such ferocity. 

"You shouldn't whip out your magic at your friends." Rosie shot back, ducking under Sera's arm to face Nesta. 

Friends. 

Nesta gave a small smile. "Fair point, Rosie." 

Sera chuckled. "Come on, witch." Her eyes shined. "We have to talk." 

Sera led the way as Rosie chatted Nesta's ear off about how rude another guy was at the tavern last night. Sera looked back and added to the story a few times, correcting Rosie when she was exaggerating the truth too much. Nesta listened and laughed. 

Friends. 

Sera led them through the backs of the tents and into a back enterance of Rosie's tent. It was dimly lit, the beautiful rug on the floor dancing in the candle light. Rosie was just finishing the story as she sat on her bed. 

"..so I told him that since he lost the arm wrestling challenge, he doesn't have a right to talk to me." Her curls bounced as she tucked her feet under her. 

Sera settled next to Rosie on the bed, unbuckling her sheath and setting it on the floor infront of the bed. 

"And?" Nesta asked as she sat in the chair by the small table. 

"And," Sera settled beside the blonde female, "Rosie knocked his teeth in the next time he tried to talk to her." 

Rosie laughed as Sera added, "It was beautiful, Nesta, seriouly." 

Nesta laughed along with them. 

Friends. 

"Well, next time you plan on ruining a males night please let me know so I can be there, too." 

Rosie met Nesta's eyes and smiled. "We will, Nes." 

Nesta raised her eyebrows at the nickname. 

Friends. 

Iona. 

"You didn't pull me into a corner to talk about that, though." Nesta looked at Sera. "Did you?" 

Sera sighed, resting her head on Rosie's shoulder. "No, no we didn't." 

"Iona chose you, Nesta." Rosie nodded as Sera brought her head up. She seemed recharged, like even that breif moment of contact with Rosie has fueled her and gave her life. 

Sera hopped off the bed, crouching to the edge of the rug. She pulled the rug up, and Nesta's breath caught in her throat. 

Under the rug was a small dugout in the ground, filled with stacks and stacks of documents. Some looked worn and rugged, some look white and crisp and new. Journals, what looked like drawings, maps- so much documentation. So much...

"It's evidence." Nesta breathed. 

Sera nodded. "Iona told you." 

Rosie was looking at the ground. 

"Yes," Nesta said, dropping down to the opposite ende of the dugout as Sera. "She tried to. She couldn't bring herself to explain further."

"Terthal is involved in a circle of males who sell thier wives, sisters, daughters out in exchange for money mostly, but also goods or ranks in the army." Sera looked gingerly to Rosie, who was still looking at the ground. 

"Iona's brother.." Sera swallowed hard. "rented her out. Often. We have an inside, so we have records of almsot every sale that goes on." 

Nesta felt choked. Rosie had a family, had a brother and a father from what Nesta understood.

Rosie's face told Nesta all she needed to know.

A sense of absolution was settled before Nesta even looked back to Sera. These males were a sickness, they were a cancer. Iona had asked Nesta to kill a monster, not a man. And Nesta would be more then happy to oblige.

Sera pulled out a few papers from the middle of a stack.

"This is everything we have on Terthal. He is-" 

Rosie cut her off. "He is a disgusting man. He deserves this, Nes, I swear." 

Nesta nodded as she took the papers from Sera. "There are plently of males in this camp who deserve it." 

Nesta looked to Rosie. "You say the word. It'll be done." 

Rosie nodded, but Sera furrowed her brows. 

"Nesta, have you ever killed anyone before?" 

Her mind flashed with images of a knife through a throat, the crunch of tendons ripping beneath her hand, the warm blood dropping down her arm. The weight of the head she was promised. 

"Yes." She said simply. "I have."

One question lingered on the faces of her freinds. 

"Once. A male who had done.." she felt her flame lick up her throat. "Horrific things to my family." 

Nesta saw the gentle hands of her Elain, the proud chin of Feyre. 

"To my sisters. My only family. I marked him with death for what he had done." 

She blinked, realizing she had been staring at the wall. Sera and Rosie only stared, a type of understanding Nesta wasn't sure she deserved written on thier faces. 

"I followed through on that." Nesta let that settle in the air. 

Rosie, though, was interested now. "Tell me how." 

Nesta felt the urge to smile as she recalled decapitating the king. She was with friends. What was there to supress? She let that smile show. 

"I removed his head. Not a clean cut." That smile grew as she let the white magic bound within her at the memory. 

"It was messy. Loud." Rosie nodded. 

"Oh, so you're completely insane then." Sera said, flatly. 

Nesta snapped her eyes to Sera's. A smile lingered there. 

So Nesta smiled back. "I suppose I am." 

Sera nodded, biting her lip as she pulled a book from the pile. 

"Take this, too. I think it's a good read for you." 

Nesta took the book from Sera, who promptly pulled the rug back into place over the treasure trove. 

Sera and Nesta stood, Sera sitting back down on the bed and Nesta tucking the papers and book into her cloak pocket. 

"We'll meet here at midnight, in three days. I'll take you there, you have to do the rest." Sera said as she took off her boots and settled on the bed. 

Nesta nodded. "I'll see you at training tommrow morning then?" 

Both the females nodded. 

"Alright, I'll let-" 

"Nes?" Rosie stopped Nesta before she could exit the tent. 

"Yeah, Rosie?" She asked, turning back around to face the two females. 

The female smiled as she reached under the bed and pulled out two liquor bottles. 

"You wanna stay for a bit? We have been listening to Carina's stories in the afternoon. You should come!" Sera, sitting next to Rosie, raised her eyebrows at Nesta. 

Nesta smiled, not having to think twice. 

"I would love to, actually." 

"Yes!" Rosie said as she popped the cork on one of the bottles. 

The wold moved to slow motion. The sharp medicinal smell of the liquor hit Nesta's nose. Foggy memories of men and hands and nights she couldn't really remember passed through her. She could practically taste the stinging down her throat, taste the stinging as it would come back up later. 

She shouldn't. She couldn't. Hel, she hadn't even cleaned up the glass from the wine bottle she threw across the room back at Henery's yet. 

"I-" Her voice caught in her throat as Sera and Rosie got out three glasses. 

"I'm not going to drink tonight." 

Nesta said it loudly, clearly. As much for her as it was for her companions. 

She wasn't going to drink tonight.

Rosie stilled, but Sera took the third glass to the water pitcher and filled it. 

"Sounds good." She said nonchalantly as she brought the glass back to the table the females had gathered around. 

Rosie had already poured the clear liquid into the two other glasses. 

The three females all grabbed thier glasses, clinking them together. 

"To Iona." Rosie said. 

"To Iona." Sera and Nesta repeated as they all slugged back thier drinks. 

The two Illyrians coughed and sniffled as they put thier cups down. Nesta laughed, going back to the water pitcher and filling thier cups with water. 

Sera laughed, "An odd chaser." 

"A needed chaser. " Rosie said as she cleared her throat. 

Nesta chuckled as she tucked the bottle under her shirt and led the way out of the tent. 

They walked in step. Nesta smiled as Rosie laced an arm through her own. 

"Welcome to the pack, Nes." Sera said. 

Friends. 

______________________________________________________________________

Cassian was worried when it had been dark for an hour and Nesta was still not home yet. 

He had left Iona with Henery when he had arrived just before sunset, and had returned to the cottage shortly after. 

Stupidly, he had picked a few flowers from the meadow. They were in a vase on the table, the blues and whites lighting up the space. 

Nesta didn't have to check in with him, didn't have to ask his permission to do anything, but he still had hoped she would at least let him know since they were the only two in the house. 

Especialy with everything that had happened with Iona. 

Cassian sat down at the table, looking at the flowers in the center, and decided he was going out after her. 

Right as he stood though, the door swun open and steel eyes herself waltzed in, laughing under her breath. He heard other voices calling out from the meadow, and he looked out the window in the dining room to see Sera and Rosie dancing along the path out of the meadow. 

"Bye, Nessie baby!! We'll see you tommrow!" Rosie called, one arm slung over Sera's shoulder. Cassian wasn't sure he had ever seen Sera smile. Yet her face was beaming as she turned herself and Rosie around and exited the meadow. 

Nesta leaned back agaisnt the door and laughed. 

She really laughed. Like she was happy. The air around her seemed to liven, the room brighten. Cassian leaned against the table, drinking in the sight of her. He knew when she noticed him, she would lock up again. 

But just for this moment, she was happy. So he let her live in that moment as long as he could. 

And then something strange happened. 

Nesta turned, looked at Cassian, and laughed even harder. 

For one second, Cassian was elated. 

Then he realized why. 

"You're drunk." He said, with more sadness then he intended. 

He though she was getting better. Coming here was supposed to help her get better. What was he doing wrong? What more cou-

"No." Nesta said, stilling coming down from the laughter. "No I am not." 

Cassian cocked his head. He searched, but the stink of alchol was no where to be found. She didn't have any bottle. As she passed him into the dining room and sat down, she wasn't stumbling or wavering. She was as sure as he had ever seen her. 

"You're not."

Nesta looked up at him, still smiling. Proud, he realized. She was proud. "I'm not."

Cassian sat across from her. He sent it down the bond, the pride he felt. 

This was a win. She was getting better. This was progress. 

And she was still smiling. 

"Have you eaten?" He was already going through the list of things he could make before she answered. 

"Yeah, Sera made Rosie and I dinner with Carina." She said, leaning back in her chair and relaxing. 

"Who is Carina?" 

Her face lit up. His heart swelled.

"She's an older female who lives in the tents. Her stories, Cassian, are so fascinating." 

She sighed, leaning foreward and resting her face on her hand as the other hand toyed with the flowers in the middle of the table. 

"I hope I have a story to tell. It would be nice to know I lived a life worth sharing." 

Cassian smiled. So casual, these deep thoughts she was sharing with him. This was an amazing night. 

"You will." He chuckled as he added. "Nessie baby." 

Nesta's eyes met his with fire. "You are not allowed to call me that." 

"Never?" Cassian prodded. 

Nesta tried but failed to contain that beautiful smile. "Never." 

"Sweetheart will have to do then, sweetheart."

She tilted her head up and threw a laugh to the sky. 

Cassian was more then content to bask in her, in this moment. 

Moments were all he got with Nesta. He had learned quickly to treasure each one of them. 

"I suppose it will, won't it?" She said, meeting his eyes. A quiet moment passed. A smile grew on his face. 

"I picked these for you." Cassian blurted. 

Nesta raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"I just thought since it would only be the two of us staying here for a while I'd try to liven up the space a bit." He continued. 

Nesta nodded slowly, questioning if he was done. 

He wasn't. 

"I know you're trying. I don't know if everyone else see's it, but even right now you've got this..." 

She smiled. He couldn't help himself. Cassian reached for her hand across the table, and to his joy and suprise she closed the distance with her own. 

"You have this life I haven't seen in you. It's beautiful, Nesta." 

Nesta's palm was soft and warm agaisnt his hand. She was looking at him with those eyes, with that smile. 

"You're beautiful, Nesta. Always have been." 

He expected her to pull her hand back. Snap at him. Walk away. Smash his flowers. He expected it, so he prepared for it. 

What Cassian wasn't prepared for was Nesta standing and pulling him to his feet too. 

Cassian was not expecting Nesta to wrap her arms around his neck and lay her head against his chest. 

"Thank you, Cassian." Nesta whispered against his chest. 

Cassian engulfed her, arms wraping around her waist and digging his head into her neck. 

He always lay his end of the bond open. But tonight he dared to reach, dared to hope her end was open. 

And it was. 

As he held her, slowly and gently knowing she could dissapear at any moment, he let her show him what she wanted to through the bond. 

The fear and sadness of the morning, the exhaustion of the afternoon, and the genuine happiness of the evening with Rosie and Sera. 

The bliss of coming home and finding him right there when she needed him. That contentment. 

That love. 

He held her tighter, breating in the embrace. One of her hands found it's way up his neck to his hair, now running fingers through it like it was fine silk. 

Nesta realxed against him, and he leaned against the wall, his wings flairing out to either side.

"How is Iona?" Nesta asked as she pulled back, just enough to talk. Her hand was still winding through his hair, the other flat agaisnt his chest. 

"She's alright. Doing better. By the end of the day she could sit up, which was a huge improvment." He said, barely able to get in a breath for how close she was. How open she was being. 

"I'm sure Verra was super excited about that." She leaned her head down to rest agaisnt his chest, moving her hands to wrap around his waist. 

"Nesta," Cassian said, tentatively as he ran his hands up and down her back, feeling her warmth under his fingers. 

"Hmm?" She answered, her small breath kissing his neck. 

"I love every second of this, don't get me wrong, but.. " His hands found her cheeks, cupping her face and bringing it up to meet his eyes. 

"What changed?"

Nesta's brows came together, lips pursed. "Sorry. I-" She started pulling away, but he brought his hands to her back to keep her there. Right there in his arms.

"No, never apologize for this, sweetheart." Cassian whispered and she melted back into him. 

"I'm angry. All the time, I'm angry. That's how I've always been." She sighed, forehead to his chest. 

He just keep stroking her back.

"I blamed people, and I blamed circumstance and I blamed life. I blamed you. I wasted so much time being angry at you."

Nesta curled her arms into herself, letting Cassian completely cocoon her. He wrapped his wings the best he could around the both of them. 

"But I realized that no one else was to blame. And I was just angry at myself." 

"Nesta, sweetheart-" 

"But that's what changed." She lifted her head to face him. Eyes of steel met eyes of honey. 

"I have nothing to be angry at you for. None of what happened was your fault." 

Cassian's arms drooped around her. "I made you a promise, and I broke it." 

Nesta smiled, merciful and tragic. "We both knew you couldn't keep that promise, Cassian." 

He couldn't look her in the eyes. He should have, he should have fought harder, pushed himself further. 

But a gentle hand on his chin pulled him from his thoughts. "Don't. No you shouldn't have." 

She tapped her finger against his jaw. "And you're wasting time thinking like that." 

He nodded, leaning into her touch. 

"So what changed is I've realized being angry is a waste of time." 

She cupped his face in her hands. He looked into her eyes, into her heart and soul of flame and steel. He saw all of her, and there was not one dark corner he didn't love.

"I'm wasting happiness not letting this happen because I'm to spiteful toward myself." 

Cassian let himself dream, for a moment. 

"This?" He asked, almost breathless. 

"Us. This. I want this, Cassian. I'm so sorry I've wasted to much of our time." 

Her eyes were so plainly honest, the bond was so strong, his mind was so clear. 

"I want this, too." Was all he could think to say. 

She huffed a small laugh. "I know that." That stunning smile faded. 

"I'm sorry I've kept it from you. I was so angry and confused and I-" 

"If I had to spend every second of eternity waiting for you, Nesta Archeron, it would not be a waste."

Nesta smiled. Cassian decided that was the only thing his eyes ever wanted to see, was his mate, smiling at him. 

"You're sweet to me." Her hands found thier way around his neck.

"Only you." He pulled her back to his chest, thier faces a breath apart.

He tilted his head and kissed her forehead, soft and gentle in a way he didn't know he was capable of. 

"I'm not ready for the whole..." She laughed at herself. "Ritual thing yet, with the food and the whole posessive thing." 

Cassian kissed her forehead again before resting his forehead against her own. He closed his eyes, existing in this moment only.

"I know. I'm not sure I am either." His eyes flittered open to see Nesta had closed her eyes too. 

"I think we both have a little bit more growing to do." Cassian watched her lips move as she spoke. 

I agree. He said through the bond. He expected her to jump away, to deny it, to shut him down. 

She didn't, and yet again that night, Nesta defied his expectations. Her eyes opened into his as she said back, 

I'm going to sleep. Wake me up for training tommrow, yeah? 

He smiled, tilting his head to kiss her forehead again. 

Of course, sweetheart. 

She looked up at him, hands still around his neck. 

"Goodnight, Cassian." 

Nesta untangled herself from him, her hands drifting down his torso to keep contact for as long as possible and she stepped away from him. Cassian caught her hand just as it slipped from his chest, kissing the back of it and bringing it up to his cheek. 

"Goodnight, Nesta." He said, kissing her palm, then letting her hand go. 

She smiled that smile at him, then swept through the living room and to the stairs. Before ascending, Nesta turned back to him. 

Thank you for waiting for me. 

He put a hand over his heart. 

I would wait a thousand lifetimes, sweetheart. 

Her smile widened, and Cassian captured that moment in his heart. Nesta turned and went up the stairs. 

Cassian watched her go.


	26. Chapter 26- Make The Mountians Shake

NSFW :)  
Nesta was happy, but exhausted.

Right about when she was at the top of the stairs was when Nesta remembered the broken glass in her room.

"Damnit." She swore under her breath, closing her hand around the cold door knob, opening it to the same sight she had awoken to. The glass shone in the moonlight, looking like waves cresting over her floor.

"Cassian?" She called, heading back to the top of the stairs.

The Illyrian was in the kitchen, eating an apple. She leaned against the wall as he turned to face her.

"Hmph?" His mouth was full. Nesta chuckled.

"Where can I find a broom?"

Cassian ran the back of his hand across his mouth, swallowing before he spoke.

"Henery took it so he could get Iona's room there with the healers set up."

Nesta frowned.

"Why?" Cassian was at the bottom of the stairs, the half eaten apple in his hand. She looked down at him.

"I have-" She paused. Nesta didn't want to tell him about breaking the bottle.

"I dropped a vase in my room. The glass is all over my floor. It's alright though, I can-"

Just as she was turning around to head back to her room, Cassian bounded up a few stairs to catch her hand.

"You could sleep in my room tonight." He said, light fingers dancing on the inside of Nesta's wrist.

She stilled, remembering the last time they had shared a bed, ending in tears with both of them. But she was drunk that night.

She wasn't now. She was in control of herself, her emotions, her reations.

"And you'll sleep on the couch?" She took a step down the stairs.

"Oh, um.." Cassian's eyebrows creased as he shrugged. "I- yeah- I mean I can."

Nesta smiled and tilted her head.

"You're joking."

She nodded.

He smiled, a mirror of herself. "You're not funny."

Nesta giggled a giggle she would only ever let him hear, and pulled her hand away from him.

"Let me change, I'll be there in a moment."

Cassian nodded and bounded back down the stairs. Nesta returned to her room, carefully brushing the glass to the side with her foot. She had no cloak or any skirts to safely brush the glass back, so she was simply overly cautious as she made her way to the bed.

She crawled over the edge and grabbed her bags, rummaging through for night clothes.

Her hand brushed something soft and lacy, and she remember what she had buried in the bottom of her bag.

She pulled out the night gown, the only thing she had ever bought from the lingre shop in Velaris.

Nesta had gone there once, thinking it would keep her mind off everything. This was the only thing she had seen herself wearing.

It was a forest green nightgown, stopping just below her ass. From the waist up, it was entirely a silver lace that shone like moonlight. There was no back, simply the lace coming together at her neck in a halter and the green satin begenning at her waist.

Nesta paused.

She was still skin and bone. She was making progress, sure, but she was nothing like the females he had been with. Frail, weak, small.

Nesta tucked the green nightgown back into the tote.

Not yet.

Digging a bit more, Nesta found a plain black nightgown, that stopped several inches above her knees. She also had a pair of socks that went to her knees, keeping her feet warm for the night. It was good enough.

After all, she would be staying in her own room tommrow night anyway.

Nesta changed on the bed, not trusting the floor in the dark room, and set her dirty clothes from the day on the end of her bed.

She repeated the process of carefully exiting the room and padded down the hall to the stairs, taking her out of it's typical bun and feeling it brush against her bare shoulders as she continued down the stairs.

She was running her fingers through her hair detangling it when Cassian rounded the corner from the hallway leading to his room, rubbing his eyes.

Nesta stopped dead.

Cassian was only wearing a pair of undershorts. That was it.

Nesta was suddenly very hot.

He yawned and put his hands down. "You rea-"

Cassian did the same thing she had done- stopped dead and stared.

The room was too small. To small for the both of them to be looking at eachother like that. Cassian's eyes went dark, dragging down Nesta's body taking in every inch of her in that nightgown. Normally Nesta would scold him, spit a snarky remark, but she had no room to talk. She was doing the exact same thing.

There was a hunger in the air. A desperation. It seemed like the physical rope between the two of them turned into an iron chain under the intensity.

Nesta remembered her words from earlies, how she was still not ready for the full force of joining with him. Yet something inside of her screamed at the thought of being seperate from him.

When this moment came, Nesta expected to feel some kind of hesitation. Something holding her back, holding her down from her.

But there was only a desperation, a need stronger then the need for breath.

It scared her, how desperately she wanted him- needed him.

She remembered the beach, the darkness spilling out of her, attacking him. She remembered the nightmare of him being ripped apart by that magic.

Nesta knew, though, that would never happen. Her magic, that seperate entity inside of her, had only wanted out. It had wanted release, and Nesta had granted it that. Would continue to grant it that as she continued to practice with it and grow it inside of her.

She wanted to practice right now.

Nesta cocked her head and rolled her wrist, at the same time she willed that magic to strech the distance between her and Cassian. She pushed it, warped it, into a single finger of white flame.

Nesta sent that flame up Cassian's spine, right between his wings.

He braced both arms on the door frame and arched his back as that one finger split into two and traced all the way down the length of his wings.

Nesta could see, even from across the room, the way his body shivered at that. The way his fingers dug into the wood. How he tilted his head up and parted his lips, letting out a groan that awoke a monster inside Nesta.

She could feel as if those fingers were her own. She could feel the solid mass of the bone under the dark rough skin of the wing. The warmth. Nesta never knew wings could get goosebumps, but she felt the skin rise under the touch of that white finger.

"Nesta..." Cassian sighed, looking at her from under his arm. She notices as she reached the end of his wings how they curled and flared at the touch.

"What." She replied flatly, not moving an inch toward Cassian.

That finger reached the end of his wings and flickered back inside of Nesta. Cassian let out a deep moan, wings shaking slightly. A pressure grew inside her at the sight of him, hair falling out around his face, eyes screwed shut.

His eyes were smouldering like embers when he looked back at her, dropping his arms from the wall.

Cassian made a movement with two fingers, summoning Nesta to him.

She stalked, slowly and innocenly as ever, toward him. Neither of them breaking eye contact the entire length of the room.

Nesta had no hesitations, no reservations.

She should have just worn the green nightgown.

When she was right in front of him, Cassian slipped a hand around her waist, instantly raising heat to her core and bumps to her skin. He backed her against the door frame, pinning her under his stare and his arms- one around her waist and one on the other side of her head.

"Do you know what that feels like for me?" He whispered, a plea in the undertone of his voice.

Nesta placed her hands on his chest, right over his heart and the dark swirks marking his shoulders and chest. She wanted to memorize every curve of those, she wanted to memorize every inch of his skin. Curving her fingernails into his chest, she drug them lightly down the front of him.

Mine.  
She needed him, needed this. Her soul, her very essence, the spark of a star that lived inside of her clawed to get out and claim Cassian as her own. She let her side of the bond lay bare, the truth of this reflecting in Cassian's side, too.

"Fuck, Nesta." Cassian breathed, dropping his forehead to hers and wedging a knee between her legs. "You have no idea how it feels, do you?"

Nesta brought a hand up, fingers wrapping around Cassian throat gently.

"Show me."

His smile was malicious as he dropped his head down to her neck. The hand at her waist lowered to her knee, two fingers finding the underside of her knee sending a pulse of sensation through her.

Cassian's lips moved on her ear, the breath promising sins as it warmed her skin.

"It feels like this."

He started trailing his fingers up the inside of her thigh, so so slowly.

Nesta's breath caught on the moan in her throat, and Cassian huffed a laugh in her ear.

"Exaclty, sweetheart." He said, his fingers continuing their torturous journey up her thigh.

Cassian's lips grazed her ear. "When you stop at the end like that, it feels like this."

His warm fingers trailed up up up, under her nightgown. Slowing his pace, his fingers came to a stop only a second away from her panties.

"And the worst part is, " Cassian kissed down the side of her neck. "The feeling lingers."

Cassian moved his fingers and replaced them with his thumb, his hand now gripping her thigh, thumb perced where his fingers were. She arched her back, that sinful thumb closer to where she needed him. She could feel the pulsing, the heat between her legs she knew was taunting Cassian. His fingers around her thigh squeezed, claiming and lustful.

Oh, he wanted her bad.

He growled into her throat, his tounge flicking against her skin. She only arched further, gasping as his teeth grazed her collar bones and his thumb pressed into her thigh.

"Cassian," She said breathlessly, "Look at me." Nesta brought a hand to his cheek, dragging his face to hers.

He was all darkness, all hunger, all animal and she met his eyes.

"I'm not ready to go the whole way, not yet." She whispered, and his hand on her thigh immideatly reracted off of her as he took a step back.

"Nesta I'm-"

Nesta caught his wrist though, and she brought his hand back to rest in that same spot on her thigh. Her other arm wrapped around his neck, pressing thier bodies together.

"You didn't let me finish." She opened her legs wider, allowing him to get even closer.

Cassian settled himself between her legs, biting his lip as he looked down at her.

"Before we do that, Cassian, I'm going to learn every inch of you." Nesta watched Cassian melt into a groan as she ran a finger down the inside of his wing.

"And you are going to learn every inch of me." Cassian smiled wickedly as his hand stroked her back, Nesta unintentionally arching at the touch.

"Like that?" His fingers felt heavenly as they settled in her hair at the top of her spine.

"Exactly like that, Cassian." Nesta moaned as his thumb on her thigh began making slow circles, just brushing the edge of her panties with each rotation.

"And then when we do bed eachother, sweetheart, " He brought that hand up from her thigh, two fingers now tracing the outline of her lips.

"We'll make these mountians shake."

Nesta looked up at Cassian as he put those fingers in her mouth, instantly closing her lips around them. She swirled her tounge around them, and could tell Cassian was thinking about exactly what else her tounge could do.

"That's a good girl." Nesta's body was begging for any release. She tried to grind against his leg that was settled between hers, but he pinned her hips to the door frame.

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth as he leaned in further.

"Let's give the mountians a taste of what they're in for, yeah?"

Cassian brought those fingers back down and drug them up her thigh, stopping in the same place.

Nesta was shaking trying to keep herself from absolutely pouncing on him. A chain bound them to this spot, unrelenting and unyeilding.

"I'm waiting." She whispered onto his lips.

Just as thier lips touched, Cassian slipped those two fingers under the soft fabric of Nesta's panties and made one long stroke along the length of her enterace.

The moan that came out of her was unholy. Cassian kept his lips on hers, tasting the sounds of pleasure he could draw from her.

The wetness of his fingers agianst her and the pressure of his lips on hers intensified the feeling at her core. She again tried to grind against his fingers, but the hand at her hip held firm.

Cassian's own breathing was ragged. "I need to go slow, sweetheart. I need to learn you." 

His finger reached the bud at the apex of her thighs, brushing across ever so slightly, causing a twitch to run down the entire length of her legs.

Nesta's head fell back against the door frame.

"Fuck, Cassian." She breathed, her hands digging into his shoulders.

His thumb made slow agonizing circles around her bud, while his two fingers continued to trail around her heat, exploring her every fold and curve.

Cassian swore under his breath, his head falling into Nesta's neck and nipping and kissing as he whispered, "You feel so good, Nesta."

All Nesta could do was huff in response as his thumb picked up pace. She was a mess in his arms, nails scraping against him and all kinds of moans falling off her lips.

"Tell me I can go inside you," Cassian said, his breath uneven and raggedy, "I'm begging you."

Nesta wired one of her hands through his hair as his fingers lingered just over her enterance.

"You're allowed to do whatever you want with me, you bastard." The end of her sentance fell into a small screech as Cassian's finges filled her and his thumb quickened.

Instead of pumping in and out of her, though, his fingers curled and uncurled inside of her, the tips brishing against a spot inside of her that made her shake every time.

"You feel..." She couldn't get a breath in as his fingers and thumb made a slow torturous circle.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Cassian." Nesta could feel his smile against her neck.

His fingers and thumb were synced, and faster and faster they went.

Nesta was there at the edge, the lightning striking right where she needed it. It felt like fire.

She was a mess of moans and squeals, her legs shaking and hands clenched in Cassian's hair. Cassian brought his head up from her neck, the hand at her hip coming to pull her head from where it was thrown agaisnt the door frame.

He fisted her hair in his hand, forcing her to face him.

"Show me what that pretty face looks like when you come, Nesta."

And she did. It struck through her like lightning. She felt herself tighten around his fingers, still curling inside of her and his thumb still circling. Nesta had to shut her eyes against the intense feeling, but she kept her face to him as she clenched and let out a scream of releif at the exhale of her orgasm.

She sucked in a breath, her whole body shaking. Opening her eyes, she realized Cassian was breathing just as hard.

"You're fucking stunning when your screaming for me." Cassian whispered, pulling his fingers from her in a long agonizing stroke.

Looking her dead in the eye like it was the most important thing in the world, Cassian put those two fingers in his mouth, the sheen of Nesta dripping from his lips. He groaned, and Nesta wiped a drip from his chin.

"Don't get cocky," Nesta breathed. "You're shaking like I am."

She pulled his hand away from his face to kiss him again. Nesta could taste herself on his tounge. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could, turning his head to deepen the kiss. Nesta cupped his face in her hands as Cassian pushed her back against the wall again, his tounge sweeping over her teeth.

Nesta broke the kiss, noting how he was breathing almost more raggedy then hers was, the way his wings were drooping and twitching.

"Cassian?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He kissed over her jawline gently.

"You finished, didn't you?" She asked, absolutely sure when she heard the low chuckle from his chest.

"Nesta," Cassian brought his head back up, kissing her forehead and meeting her eye.

"Nothing gives me more pleasure then making you scream like that." He brushed a gentle kiss over her lips.

Cassian whispered, "You're damn right, I did."

Nesta lauhed, even as she shivered.

"Less work for me then." She said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

He hissed at the contact of her arms on her shoulders.

"Cassian?" Nesta pulled back, his face in her hands, looking him over for what was the cause of the pain.

That's when she noticed the scratches.

All up and down his torso, on his neck, on his shoulder. Down his back she imagined, too.

"Cassian, dark Hel!" She tried to take a step toward him, but her legs failed her, wobbling under her and causing Cassian to reach his arms out to catch her.

"Okay, come on." He said, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her bridal style down the hallway.

"Cassian, put me down!" Nesta squirmed but her abdomen was sore and her legs would shake if she tried to lift them too much.

Cassian laughed as she made a pity attempt at moving her legs.

"You're gonna hurt yourself, Nesta." Cassian said as he pushed open the door at the end of the hall with his foot.

The room looked like the master bedroom of the house, with a fireplace and a sitting area by the door. It was all dark wood, and the earth tones of the room felt so purely Cassian that Nesta couldn't imagne anyone else staying here. The glow of the fireplace made the space a warm and inviting change from her cold dark room.

The bed was a poster bed with a mountian of fuzzy blankets and quilts and pillows. With Nesta still in his arms, Cassian fell back onto the bed, Nesta falling ontop of him.

"Cassian!" Nesta sat up immideatly, shifting off of him and curling her legs under her the best she could.

The Illyrian looked to be in a different dimension, though, his arms and wings streched out on the bed as if it were a cloud.

"Hm?" His eyes were closed but he turned his head toward Nesta.

"I hurt you. You have scratches all over your chest and arms." Nesta spoke very slowly and clearly so even he in is euphoric state could understand.

He laughed, crawling over to where she was perched by the head of the bed and the pillows.

"You didn't scratch me, Nes." He cooed, pulling the quilt back from underneath himself and Nesta.

She furrowed her brow. "What are you-"

"You embellished me." He whispered, a hand reaching out for Nesta's thigh.

Nesta, though, slapped it away and refused to lay down like Cassian was motioning her to.

If this was how her bat boy acted after only a five minute doorframe fiasco, she didn't want to know how imbicilic he would be after they bedded eachother.

"Embelished?" Nesta taunted.

"Just like I embelished your neck, sweetheart." Cassian propped his head up on his elbow.

Nesta's eyes went wide. "You didn't."

Cassian shrugged. "You'll see in the morning."

"You're joking. " A pause. A smirk.

"Cassian, are you serious!?" She knocked his elbow out, causing his head to fall down onto the pillow as he laughed.

"It's not funny! I have nothing to cover it with!" She brought her fingers to her neck, feeling the hot skin and musing at what a pathwork she would be in the morning.

Her Illyrian was cackling, his arm holding up the quilt for her get under.

Cassian was so jubilant, so content in this moment. She wondered how much he had to hold back, how difficult this was for him to try to reign in his instincts and simply laugh with her.

And just because she loved him, just because he was the only one in the universe who could see her soul, she crawled under the quilt with him.

He was still laughing as he pulled her into his chest, his arms encircling her like a promise.

"Look at me, Nes." He sang, one finger under her chin.

Nesta had to use ever ounce of will power to supress her smile.

"Nesta." Cassians voice was all kindess and sincerity, and Nesta had to give in.

She looked up at him, at her home, as his smile shined in the firelight.

"I wear these scratches like the finest jewlery." Nesta scoffed, tilting her head down, but Cassian's fingers under her chin kept her eyes there, in his trance.

"I'm being serious." He furrowed his brow. "I am proud to bear them."

Nesta simply shook her head. He was insane. But she couldn't supress the twang of pride at her own fine jewlery, already feeling the marks form on her neck.

She nuzzled herself under his chin, wrapping her hands around his back, careful of the wings and the scratches.

"It's because you're mine and you know it." She said kissing up his neck, relishing in the goosebumps that formed there.

Cassian stroked her hair. "I take immense pride in that fact, you are absolutely right."

She giggled onto his skin, closing her eyes and breathing him in.

She was not afraid. This, the two of them, deserve to find this happiness in eachother every day. Deserve to find that passion with eachother every night.

And Nesta would burn the world to the ground to make sure it happened.

"You know there's no going back now, sweetheart." He whispered into her hair.

Nesta moved her head from his neck, tilting upward to face him.

"I don't want to go back."

Cassian smiled, kissing her forehead.

"And you know now I'm going to be an absolute monster if anyone even looks at you wrong."

Nesta sighed, "Just don't kill anyone and I'll try not to get mad."

His brown eyes crinkled at the edges as his smile widened. "You're sweet to me."

She kissed his collarbones and settled back down under his chin.

"Only you." Nesta said, tracing the dark ink on his chest with her finger.

Cassian absently hummed and stroked her hair as Nesta fell asleep in her mates arms.


	27. Chapter 27- Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an extra long chapter to make up for not posting last week!!

Nesta did not remember the face of the male she had chosen to grace her bed for the night. She had probably been to drunk the night before and couldn't remember. She chose not to dwell on it. 

She was sweaty, her hair half falling out of the braid it had been in the day before. Her arms here flung around a solid torso, her head tucker underneath a stubly chin.

He was hot. It was like sleeping next to a fireplace. As she opened her eyes into the darkened room, Nesta realized it was not even sunrise yet. 

Uncurling her arms from around him, she sat up to look at the face of her latest mistake. 

And when she turned her head to look down at him, Nesta was looking at Cassian. 

Nesta remembered. 

She remembered how she had confessed, plead guilty to wasting thier time. 

Remembered how she had cursed his name in her mind as he praised her against that doorframe. 

Looking down at him then, she could still see the scratch marks on his chest and arms. One of his arms was slung loosley around her waist, almost to her hips now as she sat up and it slipped down. 

Nesta took that arm by the wrist, slowly and gently removing it from around her and guiding it onto the bed. She even went as far as to move the pillow she was laying her head on moments ago under that arm, so his sleep wouldn't be to distupted as she carefully slid out of bed. 

Cassian's shoulders rose and fell steadily as he slept. Nesta grabbed a throw blanket from the edge of the bed and flung it around her shoulders. Leaning agianst the bed post, she watched him sleep. 

There was no going back. She had told him she didn't want to go back. 

That was true. 

Nesta sat on the edge of the bed. She began undoing the messy braid, detangling her hair with her fingers. She watched as Cassian's wings fluttered slightly. 

She smiled. Cassian must be dreaming. 

Now they were treading this dangerous line. They weren't mated. Not fully, not yet. But the bond was unsettled, uneven in this limbo they found themselves in. 

Nesta's gut churned. She was anxious, so anxious. That gut dropping, petrifing feeling of losing your balance and falling, the split second before you actually start to fall.

That's what it felt like. The two of them had been dancing on the edge of a cliff for a long time, and last night they had pushed eachother over the edge. They were trapped in that split second before the fall begins, that state of terror. 

Cassian took a deep breath and pulled the pillow into his chest, resting his head on top of it. 

She had thought of him as 'hers' last night. High on the shining of the bond and on the feeling between her legs and the love in her heart she had started to become that posessive agressive being she promised herself she would never become. 

Nesta curled her legs under herself and under the throw blanket. 

But he was hers, wasn't he? And she was his. They belonged to eachother. 

It would be hard. They would fight. Two fires only burn brighter when conjoined. 

She frowned. 

They already had. She had hurt him, more times then she could count. 

Cassian would say he forgave her, but forgivness meant nothing. 

Forgivness was not an erasure of pain. Forgivness does not restore trust. 

Forgivness was a pretty word Nesta knew she didn't deserve to hear. 

She shifted, slowly as to not wake Cassian, and crept off the bed. By the firepalce there was a small desk and on it Nesta found a paper and ink, and wrote a small note for Casssian. 

Blowing on the ink lightly to dry it, Nesta crept back toward the bed and placed the note on the pillow Cassian was still clutching.

Nesta noted how his eye lashes fluttered as he dreamed. She smiled inspite of herself, reaching out and running a few fingers through his hair. He didn't shift, just continued sleeping peacefully as Nesta walked to the door and slipped out of his room.

__________________________________

The purple of the dawn danced on his cheeks, drawing Cassian from his sleep. He was always a heavy sleeper, barely a nocturnal creature like others in his family. Sometimes he thought he should belong to the day court for how much he liked to sleep. 

He smiled to himself, sqeezinng his arms around Nesta a bit tighter. 

She squished against him like- 

He sat up, lifting the pillow in his arms infront of him. Cassian stared at it, as if it would give him answers.

He leaned the pillow agaisnt his knees, eyebrows creased, and leaned back on his elbows. 

Something scrunched under his elbow, and he lifted it to see a crumped peice of paper. 

Cassian smoothed it out as best he could, and read the sweeping handwriting.

Cassian, 

I'm going to training early with Sera this morning. I'm sorry I didn't tell you last night, but as you know we were a bit preoccupied. 

Cassian chuckled, his heart jumping remembering the night before. 

Yes, I have eaten. Yes, I'm bringing water. No, I won't be back before my rounds with Jaida. 

Ok, Nesta knew him really well. 

I'll check on Iona after training and I'll send Henery home with the broom. I'll clean up my room this afternoon.

If you're still home when he gets there, please take care of him. I'm sure he hasn't eaten or slept since it all happened. 

Henery. Cassian needed to be home when Henery got home. He ran through his day in his mind. He could stay home until his meeting that afternoon. 

There's tea in the kettle and a fire in the hearth. Thank you for letting me stay in your room. I won't inconvience you by hogging your bed tonight, I promise. 

There seemed to be words scribbled out, Nesta trying to settle on a closing to the note. After a full line of scribbles, Nesta had settled on:

I'll see you this evening. 

Yours, Nes

Cassian set the note down.

Like a lovestruck idiot, he hugged the pillow against his chest. Cassian smiled agianst the silky fabric.

Nesta was getting better. She was opening up. She was healing. 

Cassian had once told her that he would find her in the next life and they would have thier time. 

He couldn't help but feel like this was that second life, and they finally were getting that time together. The time they deserved. 

Taking a deep breath and setting her pillow to the side, he streched out his arms and wings and yawned into the morning. 

He needed to get moving if he was going to see her at training. 

______________________________________________________________________

"It's a dance, Nessie, let's go!" 

Sera taunted as she held the mitts up for Nesta to swing at. The mist of the morning contrasted the warm rays of sun as Nesta took in the Illyrian before her.

Nesta huffed, her braid whipping around as she continued to throw punches to the mitts. 

She was connecting more regularly, the hits coming in harder. Slowly Nesta was learning how to devillanize her fae instincts and listen to them instead- the strength, the senses, the speed. 

1, 2, duck

1,2, duck

1, 2, -

Sera came under with a shot to Nesta's chin, an unexpected move intented to throw Nesta off and teach her some kind of lesson. 

She almost smiled.

Nesta dodged to Sera's left- her weaker side from what Nesta had gathered- and threw her own lesson straight to Sera's cheek. 

She was fast. Sera was faster. 

Sera ducked, connecting to Nesta's ribs with a hard punch. Nesta recoiled only for a moment before throwing a fake left hook, which Sera fell for a dodged right. 

Right into Nesta right hook. 

As her wrapped knuckles connected with Sera's face, Nesta didn't feel regret or guilt for hurting her freind. Because it wasn't hurt. It was teaching. 

It was like Sera was teaching her how to read. Slow, clunky at first, one or two words at a time. Then, suddenly, those words can turn into sentences. Those sentances began combinatinos of punches and dodges which became instinct. 

At least, that's how Nesta understood it. She wasn't there yet, still learning how to string sentences together. 

But, damn did it feel good to learn to read. 

Sera put her mitts up, the sign of defeat, and Nesta put her hands on her knees as she took a few deep breaths. 

"You okay?" Nesta huffed, looking up from the ground to see Sera holding her cheek. 

She laughed, then immideatly winced and cradled her cheek with both hands. 

"I'm okay, Nesta." Sera picked up one of the mitts on the ground and tossed it to Nesta, who caught it with one hand and stood up straight. 

"But you?" Sera shook her head. "You are amazing." 

Nesta scoffed, fitting the gloves to her own hands so Sera could spar. "I'm learning. I'm lucky." 

"Luck doesn't land a right hook to my cheek, Nesta." The illyrian rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms. 

"Sera!" 

Rosie came trotting over, looking perky as ever in tanned leathers and a yellow headscarf keeping her hair back. Nesta noticed the scarf had little white birds on it. 

"The yellow is a nice choice, Rosebud." Sera said, extending her arm. 

Rosie folded herself into Sera's side. "I know you like yellow." 

The blonde continued. "I went to see Iona this morning. She's-" 

Rosie perked up to look at Sera straight on. "Serafina, what happened to your face?" 

Sera smirked and Nesta took a step foreward. "I'm afraid that's my bad, Rosie."

Rosie looked at Nesta, then back to Sera, then back to Nesta. 

"Wow." She huffed a laugh. "Normally I'd be pissed off but.." 

Rosie brought a hand to Sera's chin, moving it around to inspect the already forming bruise. 

"But honestly Nessie, I'm just impressed. She landed that one on you?" Rosie asked. 

"She landed that one on me." Sera answered. 

"I landed that one on her." Nesta confirmed. "And I'm not really sorry because a week ago I couldn't even throw a punch. 

Rosie laughed, a devilish smile spreading warmth through her face. 

"You know we have to go demolish some assholes with this new punching power, right?" 

Nesta's smile faded. "Rosie-" 

"No!" Nesta had learned that an Illyrians wings were a telltale sign of thier feelings, and Rosie's clipped wings shivered with anticipation. 

"No, just because you don't drink anymore doesn't mean you can't have fun." Her blonde curls bobbed under the yellow scarf. 

"You, me, Sera. Tonight, the tavern." She beamed. 

Sera looked to the blonde, shivering with excitment at the idea of ruining men's lives.

"We went out last night, Rosie." The purples of Sera's blouse rippled under her dark corset as she turned back to Nesta. 

Rosie, though, wasn't done. She smoothed a hand around Sera's waist, a gesture that made Nesta's heart sting. 

"Serafina, you can never go out to humilate males to often. There isn't a limit. The limit does not exist." 

Sera was going to give in. Nesta knew because Rosie was giving Sera the same face Nesta gave Cassian. 

"How about this?" Nesta butted in, putting a hand on Rosie's shouler. 

"The lake behind the cottage is huge and clear and beautiful at night." Nesta said, catching Sera's greatful look. 

"Come over, I'll make Cassian cook dinner, and we can all team up to dunk him in the lake when he goes to sleep." 

The image of Cassian sopping wet and pissed as Hel made a small laugh come out of Nesta. 

"Come on." She probbed. "He's pissed you off, too. He's good a male as any to humiliate." 

Rosie looked to Sera, who gave her those beautiful deep brown eyes, and Rosie sighed. 

"Ok! Okay." Rosie kissed Sera's cheek and turned to leave. "But I get first dunk!" She called over her shoulder. 

Both females laughed, a genuine laugh that neither of them had in a while, but wholeheartedly deserved. 

"She's got a little crazy in her." Sera sighed, redoing her poinytail. "But she's my crazy, so I don't mind." 

Nesta bit her lip. "So the two of you are together." 

Sera perked up, her hands stilling on the back of her neck. 

"You're not an asshole about that. I know you aren't. Most of the females here aren't, either." 

Her wings dropped only an inch as she continued. 

"But the males? They think the whole purpose of females is breeding and child rearing. Nothing more, short of slave labor." She sighed. 

"So when they see two females together, they don't get it." Her shoulders shrugged. "I can't blame them." 

Nesta scoffed. "I can." 

Sera looked at her, a faint smile on her face. 

"The two of you care about eachother. It's not difficult to understand." Nesta crossed her arms and looked to where Rosie now stood, by the archery station. 

"The males don't understand." Sera chuckled. "I think, though, that if they can't stick thier dick in it, they don't understand it." 

Nesta laughed, bending down to pick up the mitts. 

"No, no." Sera said, taking the mitts from Nesta and walking to the edge of the forest a few steps away. She tucked them back into the tote they were stored in, and then shifted the tote back under the branches and out of sight. 

"We've been at this for two hours. Go take a break-" 

She gave a pointed look to Nesta's middle.

"-eat something, then meet me at the swords." 

Nesta nodded. "Sera?"

Sera stopped in front of Nesta. 

"If anyone gives you trouble, about you and Rosie, you let me know." Her tone was steady as she spoke. 

But Sera smiled. "Trust me, Nessie, I will." She put a hand on Nesta's shoulder, and walked past her. 

"If anyone's gonna punch an asshole for me, " Sera called from over her shoulder, " I want it to be you!" 

Sera flared her wings as she walked away, leaving Nesta smiling by the edge of the forest. 

"Morning." 

Nesta jumped, her body turning and throwing a punch before she could comprehend what was behind her. 

Cassian yelped himself and dodged right, one of his hands catching Nesta's wrist. 

Nesta took a breath, her lungs filling with the embers of his presence. 

"Sorry." She breathed. 

Cassian smiled, the finger on the inside of her wrist stroking slightly as he pulled her in. 

"It's oka-" 

Nesta pulled away just as his hand brushed her waist. She put a hand to his chest. 

"I take that back. I'm not sorry." His eyebrows creased as Nesta continued. 

"You are the one who snuck up on me." 

His eyes glowed. "Oh?" 

She shot back, "So you should apoligize." 

Cassian's hand wrapped around hers on his chest. "To you?" 

Nesta loved this, the back and forth, the tension. "Yes, to me." 

"You want me to apoligize to you." He said, his other hand finding her waist again and pulling her in. His hair was golden as the sun rose at his back.

"I don't want you to, you should." Nesta's eyes flickered to his lips. His chest was so warm under her hand. 

She remembered a rainy day in her estate months and months ago when she had done this same thing. Things had been so different then, so painful. But today was not rainy. No, the weather was beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky as Cassian leaned into her, breathed in her presence.

"Well, I'm so-" Cassian tilted his head up and kissed her forehead. Nesta closed her eyes.

"-very-" He kissed her cheek. 

"-very-" He kissed her other cheek. 

"-sorry." Cassian rested his forehead agianst hers, the hand on her waist pressing thier bodies together and a light finger under her chin lifting her face to his. 

Cassian kissed her, light and sweet. Like a butterfly landing on a flower. 

Nesta couldn't help but think there was nothing in the world she wanted more then this male in front of her. 

"I'm sorry I left early this morning. Did you get my note?" She asked, seperating thier faces and wraping her arms around his neck. Nesta knew she should slow down with him, but this morning, this one morning with the sun gracing everything golden, she just wanted him in her arms. If only for a moment.

He smiled. It made her heart skip a beat. "I did. I also hugged your pillow thinking it was you, which was a weird start to my day." 

Nesta leaned back. "My pillow?" 

Cassian smiled hesitantly. "Yes...?"

When she didn't respond, he elaborated. 

"The pillow you sleep on? On your side of the bed?" 

She said nothing. The morning suddenly seemed duller.

"Your pillow?" He finished, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Nesta shook her head. "It's your pillow, Cassian." 

Now it was his turn to be silent. 

She took a step back, sliding her arms down his and gripping his hand. 

"I don't have a 'side of the bed'." 

Cassian frowned. "Yes, you do."

"No, Cassian, I don't." Nesta sighed. 

"We weren't on the same page last night." She said, his hands becoming clamy in hers. 

"That's probably my fault." She continued.

A beat. 

"I'm not staying in your bed." Cassian's face fell, but Nesta brought her hands up to his cheeks, making him meet her eye. 

"I want you. I want this. Don't think I've changed my mind." 

"Then why can't y-" 

"I told you I wasn't ready for the..." She gestured up and down and all around. "Thing!" 

He scoffed. "You can't keep calling it a thing and expect me to know what you're talking about. I don't know how to help with a thing, Nesta, I need to know-." 

"I don't even know what thing means yet, Cassian, which is why I am not ready for it." She took a whole step back from him.

He sighed, relenting. 

"Nesta, I cannot be in the same house as you and not have you by my side when I sleep."

"Why?" 

Cassian was silent. 

"Why, Cassian? Give me a reason." 

He raised his voice slightly. "I just-" 

Nesta gave him a pointed look that said, quiet down, and he took a deep breath.

"Nesta, I've been waiting to share my bed with you since the day I met you." He breathed, tucking a hair behind her ear. "And twice now that's something that's been taken from me."

"And I've had major major issues since the day I met you. Issues I've not completely worked out." She replied. 

"But I'm trying. I'm sorry if that isn't enough for you, but it's all I have to offer right now." 

Cassian tilted his head and scrunched his brows, pity written on his face. 

Nesta hated pity. 

"Don't look at me like that." 

"Like what?" He reached for her hand, but she backed away. 

"Like I'm a mess you have to clean up." She snapped. 

Cassian's posture evaporated, a silent rage simmering under his skin. Fire on fire, that's what they were.

"Like I'm fixable." 

He ran a hand through his hair, his anger seeping into his voice. 

"Nesta, you are fixable. You-" 

Nesta's mind was horifficaly clear as she took another step back.

"I'm not fixable, Cassian, because I am not broken." She said, a dangerous tone she had never used with him before. 

She started to step back, to walk away as she finished-

"I would apprechaite it if you stopped acting like I am." 

"Nesta!" He called after her. 

"I'm late for training with Sera." She called over her shoulder, letting the wind carry the words to Cassian. 

But with a loud swoosh, he landed in front of her, blocking her path. 

She simply crossed her arms. 

"I don't mean to treat you like your broken." He put his hands on her elbows, her arms still crossed. 

"Even if you were a mess-" He squeezed her arms, a conforting gesture that made Nesta a little lightheaded. 

"I would be more the happy to help you clean up. Elated, even." 

His gaze dropped.

"Even if I never knew it, before I knew you, I have been waiting for this time with you my entire life." 

He was so beautiful. So sweet, and kind, and thoughtful, and everything Nesta didn't deserve.

"Cassian, " She said, placing her hands over his. "It's okay." 

His choclate eyes met hers, stopping her breath every single time. 

"I'm..." Nesta took a deep breath. "I've never had people care about me like this before and I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with it." 

She laughed. "I thought this-" She motioned between the two of them, "-would be the easy part." 

Cassian nodded as she continued. 

"But it's not. And I wasn't ready for that. So I can't just start claiming a side of your bed, or having my own pillow. It's not that I don't want to."

Nesta cupped his cheek when his face faltered a bit. "I do want that. I do want to share that with you." 

He nodded again. 

"But I just need time. I'm not there yet. And I know you are." Her voice was thin. 

That silent rage awoke inside her, but she continued. 

"If you need to find someone who-" 

Cassian cut her off with his lips on hers, his hands on her cheeks. Nesta wrapped her own arms around his waist, pulling him closer and leaning into the kiss. 

Normally, she would hate showing affection like this in public, with so many people around. But after last night, after what they had shared, part of her loved showing Cassian off to every other female there. She also just loved kissing him, so she didn't mind if people stared. 

He pulled away first. "You were my someone I needed to find. So if I have to wait?"

Cassian shrugged his shoulders and kissed her again, that light sweet butterfly kiss. 

"Then I'll wait. I told you, I'd wait an eternity for you. I meant it." He smiled, and she drunk in that joy with abandon. 

"Nesta Archeron!" 

Nesta swore under her breath as Sera shouted to her from the swords, thirty yards away. 

"When I told you to 'eat something' I did not mean the face of my general!" 

Cassian barked a laugh as Nesta shoved herself away from him and started running toward Sera. 

"Stop distracting my soldiers with your fancy hair and go bother someone else!" Sera shouted down at Cassian, driving him into another laughing fit. 

"What?! You think I'm joking? You're lady throws a better right hook then you could dream of! So you better get to working instead of standing there staring at her ass as she's running over here!" 

Nesta threw her head back and kept running, closing in on Sera and slowing her pace. 

Sure enough, Cassian's vision was on Nesta's behind unapoligetically. She threw him a vulgur gesture as he continued laughing and she finally stood in front of Sera. 

"I'm sorry. He stopped me for the record." Nesta huffed as she followed Sera when the Illyrian started walking. 

Sera smiled. "No need to apoligize, you still had five minutes left of your break." 

Nesta pursed her lips and started to speak, but Sera cut her off.

"I just like to piss your bat boy off, and that is something I am not sorry for." 

They both laughed. Nesta added, "That makes two of us." 

Sera put a hand to her stomach as she laughed, but she still reached for one of the wooden training swords propped against a tree. 

"Just try not to land a shot to my face with this, okay Nessie?" 

Nesta grabbed one as well, suprised at how well it fit in her palm, how managable it was. 

She smiled wickedly as she said, "No promises, Sera." 

___________________________________________

Iona's back hurt. 

Which was a good sign, becasue Verra had been really concerned when it went numb earlier that day. But now it hurt again, and that was a good sign. 

She shivered, the tight bangage wrapped around her boosom and torso doing little to keep the cold out. She couldn't put on a shirt. It was to risky, trying to get the wings through and keep it from getting infected. So she wore the bandages and slacks, and sat by the fire most of the day. 

It was okay, though, because it meant she could show off when Verra came by.

She could lift her arms halfway up, move her head, sit up by herself, and new today she could stand and take a few steps. 

You don't realize it, but when half of your body weight is hanging off your back, it has a huge impact on everything you do. Even breathing felt different. Those muscles that were built to work around the mass of wing muscle were not trying to adjust to that constant weight and that pull being missing. 

Iona was trying to adjust too. 

She knew what happened. She knew there was no changing or repairing or fixing her wings. 

But the fact that she would never fly again? 

Iona shook her head, running her hands down the front of her thighs. 

"Are you okay, Iona?" Her father said across the table, his stew steaming his glasses. 

She smiled. Even smiling felt different. "I'm okay, popop." 

Her arm shook slightly as she raised the spoon to her mouth, the muscles trying to adjust to moving again after a night of stillness. 

It was delicious. Her father was a wonderful cook. 

"Do you think you want to go see the meadow today? The coldasies are in full bloom." 

He took off his thick glasses when he finally couldn't see through them. His cane lay on the table, and he set the heavy wood framed glasses next to it. 

Iona didn't want to go outside. The wind always pulled back a bit on her wings, her body would always automatically adjust to the drag. She wasn't ready for it to just go through her. 

Like she was a ghost. 

"No, but I would like it if you brought me a few." She took a bite and guestered to the alcove she had been staying in. "This place could use the Henery touch." 

Her father chuckled. "Cassian is coming later this afternoon. I'll run home then and get you a whole bouquet, wildflower." 

"You don't have to do a whole-" 

Henery reached for his cane, ready to bonk her on the head but not quite finding the courage in himself to. So he simply picked it up and booped her nose with one end. 

She laughed and swatted it away. Pain rippled down her spine at the laughter, but she didn't mind.

"Just for that, I'm bringing you the whole meadow." 

A knock on the door startled them both. 

"Come in!" Iona called, watching the door open and Verra step through. 

"How are you feeling this afternoon, Iona?" They said, setting down a basket of food on the counter. 

Iona stood. "I'm feeling great." 

Verra turned, eyebrows creasing when they saw Iona standing. "You're a bad liar, Iona." 

"She gets that from me." Henery said. 

Verra crossed to Henery. "You should get some sleep." They put a gentle hand on his shoulder, the old Illyrians wings fluffing in dismissal. 

They rounded the table to Iona, who was still standing. 

"I'm serious, Ver, I can even take a few steps!" Iona said, closing the distance between herself and the healer with slow articulated steps. Her weight was all off and the movement sent screams up her bottom and back, but she took the three steps toward the healer with a smile on her face. 

Verra put thier arms out, grasping Iona's arms. 

"Henery, could you give us a moment? There's some other things outside I need you to grab for me." Verra asked, still looking at Iona. 

"Oh pish posh, you don't need me to do anything for you." But still, the old man dropped out of his chair and shuffled to the door, while calling over his shoulder. "You're a strong capable person, Verra!" 

The door shut behind him. 

Verra's face fell. 

"Drop it, Iona." 

Iona chuckled, confusion on her face. "What?" 

"I know you're hurting, Iona." They said, a gentle squeeze a comfort for Iona. 

"No, the pain isn't to bad right now, actually." 

"That's not what I meant." 

Iona's eyes fell. Verra brought a small hand to Iona's face, lifting to her tiptoes to kiss her forehead. 

"Drop it, Iona."

"You know they call me the 'gentle giant'?" Her eyes were lined with silver as she looked back to the healer. 

"Iona, -" Verra started, but Iona threw her arms back and stumbled a step. 

"No!" 

Verra had never heard Iona shout. It was nothing short of terrifying. 

But Verra was only sad for her freind. 

"I don't know what I am anymore, Ver!" Iona steadied herself with a hand on the table, but swatted thier arm away when Verra tried to offer comfort. 

"I'm disgusting and I can't walk and the one thing that made me special was literally ripped away from me." She sobbed into her hand, the skeleton of her life twitching on her back like a grotesque limb. 

"Kids used to climb all over me in the tents. They would make flower rings to put on the tips of my wings." Iona whispered. 

Verra paused, letting Iona take a breath before they sat on the edge of the table, legs dangling off the floor. 

"I just don't want them to stop making me flower rings." She sniffled, leaning over the table. 

"That's all." Her tears dripped into her now cold stew. "I just want them to make me flower rings." 

Verra said nothing. Not because they didn't care, but because they knew that nothing they could say would help. Truthfully, they didn't know how the kids would react. How anyone would. Verra had kept Iona in this isolated space because of that. Healing was hard enough, even harder if you had people gawking at you. 

Verra unscrewed a can on salve for pain releif they had in their bag.

Iona tilted herself and rested her head on Verra's shoulder. Verra kissed her hair before putting a gentle hand on Iona's upper back. 

Iona flinched, but as Verra began to rub in the medecine, and Verra could feel the tension dissapear as they continued. Iona's body relaxed against Verra's as their small hand continued to work over Iona's muscled shoulders. 

"Surviving was the easy part, Iona." 

Verra dipped her fingers back into the salve. They placed them on Iona's lower back, careful of the still bandaged skeleton wings, and began to massage there as well. 

"Now you have to live, Iona. That's the hard part." 

_________________________________________________________________________

"I just don't see why we can't do it ourselves, we are wasting time." 

Az paced in the cabin, Lori straddling a chair before him. 

The dusk rivaled the beauty of that morning's dawn, the orange light of the falling sun cascading through the small window. 

Az continued pacing, his responce short. "No."

Lori hooked her hands aroun the chair, leaning back. "Well then I have nothing else for you." 

"No, Lori, you do." His wings shifted as he stopped pacing right infront of Lori, whipping a chair around and straddling it. The mirror image of her. 

She stared, challenging him with her gaze. 

"You get Nesta Archeron on our side. You get her to agree to this plan."

Lori leaned foreward. "This plan is bullshit, and I've told you that before." 

Az sighed, exhasperated. They'd been at this for a good hour now. His intentions were all in the right place, but he didn't understand- couldn't understand the importance of what they were discussing. 

He had even been desperate enough to suggest killing Devlon. Lori had to admit, she was not against the idea. But it wouldn't solve anything. 

Lori was keeping secrets from the spymaster. A dangerous, dangerous thing to do. 

And yet, she slept soundly knowing keeping those secrets was keeping the women of Windhaven safe from a fate worse then Devlon. 

"I made you my second because I knew you were capable." 

"Are you saying I'm not?" She tilted her head. 

His dark eyes met hers. "I also made you my second because you are the only one with enough bravado to speak to me like that." 

Lori said nothing. 

"You're honest. You're brutally honest. And I want to know." He said, not daring to back down an inch. 

"What do you think is the best plan of action to free the women of Windhaven?" 

She smiled.

"Our plan is to let the women of Windhaven free themselves."

____________________________________________________________________

Cassian was cooking when Nesta got home with Sera and Rosie in toe. Sera was talking about some new kind of fighting technique she was developing, and Rosie was giving her the biggest heart eyes Nesta had ever seen. 

"We have company!" Nesta called as she strode through the door. 

Cassian's head popped out from the kitchen, a warm smile spreading across his face when he saw Sera and Rosie. 

"What are we having tonight, General?" Sera asked as she hung her cloak on the hall tree and unstrapped her sword. Rosie was carrying her cloak, and she slung it over Sera's. 

Nesta did the same as Cassian replied, "Well, I went hunting today for the tents and Jaida said I could keep one of the deer." 

A creaking noise was the oven opening followed by the mouth watering smell of venison. 

Cassian came around the corner as Nesta finished untying her boots. 

"Ribs, anyone?" 

All the food was finished over laughter and conversation. Cassian and Sera spoke at length about the wrist switch Sera was developing. Rosie jumped in, often adding details that Sera forgot or retorting something Cassian said. 

Nesta stayed quiet mostly, but she didn't mind. 

Here, before her, life played out. Nesta felt empty, but in a way that promised hope. In a way the promised better things to come. But she was empty all the same. Drained, emotionally and physically. 

Thankfully, no one noticed when she only ate two of the ribs. 

She was living minute by minute. Some minutes were easier then others. There would be a difficult minute, then Cassian would laugh, and then it would be a simple moment. Or Sera would be so invested in her project that it would be an inspiring moment. Or Rosie snap at Cassian and it would be a funny moment. 

When there were to many bad moments back to back and she reached for Cassian's hand on the table, it was a soft moment. Short, excuseable, but not to Cassian. 

Never to Cassian. 

When her fingers brushed over his, he opened his palm for her. For the rest of the meal, she gently brushed her fingers over his calloused palm, that minature contact easing her through every moment.

Yes, good moments and bad moments. Nesta was learning to be okay with that. 

Two hours and two platters of ribs later, all the food was gone and they sat in the living room. 

"No, I'm just saying that taking the delta through the mountians would be faster." Sera said, conetmplating how to visit her sister at the neighboring camp. 

"Sera," Cassian scoffed, his arm and one wing slung across the back of the couch in front of the fireplace. "Flying would be faster." 

Rosie, from her place in the rockingchair, chimed in. "Kallon doesn't allow women to fly in Ironcrest."

Nesta spoke, for what seemed like the first time in hours. "Who is Kallon?" 

"Devlon, but worse." Sera folded her legs under herself on the sofa next to Cassian. 

Cassian leaned his head back agaisnt the sofa. "He's on my hitlist, I swear." 

"Why are we killing him?" Nesta curled the blanket around herself in the loveseat. 

"We?" Cassian perked his head up and raised an eyebrow. 

Rosie snickered as Nesta responded. "If he's on your hitlist, he's on mine."

Sera's eyes met hers, a reminder of the very real hitlist Nesta was garnering. 

"He's been slandering Rhys and I since the war ended. He is desperate for disscent, distrust of the Night Court among the Illyrians." Cassian finished, missing the glance between Nesta and Sera as he rubbed his eyes. 

Nesta made a mental note of that. To ask Lori exactly what this Kallon was saying about Cassian.

"Listen, this talk about murder is truly a treat, but I think it's time for Rosie and I to retire for the night." Sera said, standing and walking to Rosie. 

Sera offered her hand, but Rosie looked at Nesta. Nesta nodded and the Illyrian took her partners hand. 

"Come back and let me cook for you anytime, soldiers." Cassian said, flairing his wings by way of parting. 

"Forgive him, " Nesta said, standing and walking to the door. She held out Rosie's cloak as she said, "Guests aren't his strong suit." 

Cassian laughed in the living room. 

Nesta remembered her promise from earlier, and turned her back to the Illyrian on the couch. 

"No dunking tonight?" She whispered, quiet enough she knew Cassian couldn't hear. 

Rosie and Sera shook thier heads. "I'm beat, Nessie." Sera said, tying the knot at the top of her cloak. 

"Gives us options for next time though!" Rosie held her arms out to Nesta. 

Without guilt or shame or fear, Nesta accepted the hug from her freind. 

Nesta pulled back and turned to Sera who also pulled her in and whispered in her ear, 

"Thank you for tonight, Nesta." 

Nesta smiled into Sera's shoulder. "Anytime." 

The two females shuffled out the door into the cold night.

Nesta walked back to the couch and flopped down next to Cassian. 

She spoke plainly. "I've never had a freind before."

Cassian turned his head to her, showing her he was listening. 

"I've never had a friend want to hug me before." 

She looked at her hands in her lap as the bad moment continued. 

"I am a cruel cold person, aren't I?" 

As Cassian placed his hands atop hers, the bad moment passed. 

"You were." He kissed her forehead. "And now you're trying. That's all anyone can ever ask of you."

His eyes were always so open and honest with her. He was stunning in every way. The gentle scar through his eyebrow, the one strand of hair that always fell in his eye. The way his wings fluttered whenever she looked at him. 

It wasn't that he was perfect. It wasn't that there were no bad moments with him. 

It was that he made the bad moments bareable, he lived the bad moments with her. 

Fire on fire. 

She remembered how she had asked him to become nothing but embers. 

Nesta was releived he was a roaring flame again. 

Rather then open her mouth and say every word she kept repressed in her locked mind, she simlpy leaned in, slow and gentle, and kissed him. 

Cassian's hand rose to cup her cheek, a gentle anchor as thier lips met. Nesta put a gentle hand on his chest. 

A blissful moment. 

Cassian pulled away first, resting his forehead on hers. 

"Are you going to bed?" He whispered, careful not to break the trance of the kiss. 

"I am." Nesta said, opening her eyes and leaning back from him. 

She cursed under her breath as she remembered the glass on her floor. 

But Cassian was already on his feet, a hand extended toward her. 

"I took care of it." 

She looked up at him, a soft smile on her face. 

"I knew Jaida had you locked up and you wouldn't be home until later." He blushed as thier hands met, such an un-Cassian thing that she laughed despite herself. 

Yet he smiled as she stood, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Nesta's own arms slithered around his neck, her head tilted as Cassian buried his face in her neck. 

They stood there, holding eachother, for long enough that Cassian started to sway gently. Nesta's limbs felt heavy, rocked to sleep by the breaths of her mate before her. 

Nesta kissed Cassian's neck, gentle like a butterly landing on a flower, and he did the same to her. 

Nesta was about to open her mouth, about to say something she'd been dying to tell him, when the door burst open. Nesta whipped around in Cassian's arms, his chest a wall of warmth and security behind her. One of his hands went to a knife at his side and the other remained around her waist, anchoring her to him.

Sera stood there, clothes dishelvled and breathing heavily. 

Cassian's wasn't even there anymore. Nothing existed.

Not as Sera said, "Tonight. Nesta, it has to be tonight."


	28. Chapter 28- A Blade Given Form

Nesta responded without thinking. 

"I'll meet you in Rosie's tent in ten." 

Sera nodded shortly and swept back out of the house. 

Nesta turned, only to face a worry in Cassian's face that made her blood boil.

"What's that about?" He asked, his hands still around her waist.

It took Nesta ten seconds to concoct the lie. It only took another 5 to get over the guilt of lying to Cassian. 

It fell so easily from her tounge, that single drop of posion. 

"Sera wanted me to cut her hair." Her smie was golden. "Apparently the bravery to do the deed has found her, so tonight it is." 

She carefully stepped away from Cassian, who's hand lingered on her waist. She could read him like one of her books. 

He bought every word.

It should have been harder to lie to him. Should have pulled her morals, swayed her judgment. She should have doubted her intentions and looked for other options. 

Instead, she smiled. 

Nesta rose to her tip toes and laid a kiss to his cheek. 

Looking her mate in the eye, she lied, "I'll probably stay the night at Rosie's tent, too. Don't expect me." 

Cassian, for all his brilliance, nodded stupidly and watched her as she walked to the door to pull on her cloak and shoes. 

"I'll just cuddle a pillow and try my best not to dream of you, I suppose." He said, stepping toward her and helping her tie the cloak shut. 

"You are hopeless." She said, the only truth she would tell him that night. 

Nesta memorized the smile he gave her. 

"Only for you." Cassian kissed the top of her head.

Love blinded him. He was so willing to seek out and only see the best in her. Cassian was susceptiable to every kind of manipulation. Nesta knew he beleived she was healing, she was better, she was happy. 

He ate every lie out of the palm of her hand like a good dog would eat a bone. 

No, she was not healing. 

Her healing would only come from the swipe of a blade, from crimson stains and silver flame. 

Bloodshed called, and she could not ignore it's siren song. 

"I'll see you tommrow, then, Nes." Cassian opened the door for her, kissing her cheek as she passed him and walked out. 

Nesta smiled. It felt wicked. "Until tommrow." Her voice was distant, a false thing that did not belong to her. 

Her foolish, love-sick mate closed the door, locking it. Nesta followed the path until she was deep in the forest, then turned back and looked at the cottage. 

One candle glew in Cassian's bedroom window, and from within she could see the expanse of his wings and he streched and readied himself for bed. 

A fool. A blind, trusting, ignorant fool. Again, Nesta should have felt guilt. But as she turned from the cottage and continued to the tents, she only felt a tingling numbness. The calm before the storm. She felt her magic reeceding, waiting patiently for the night's adventures. 

The flame in her blood rang sweetly in her ears as she exited the forest and ran the rest of the way to Rosie's tent. 

_________________________________________

He whistled a simple tune as he blew out the candles and tucked himself under the covers. 

Cassian found that pillow across the sheets in the dark and pulled it into himself. Her scent lingered there, that sharp sweet smell that tamed his very soul. 

Nesta was getting better. When they first arrived, he never thought she would be helping Sera with her hair. 

It was a simple, small thing. It was a single step down a road of freindship and healing. 

He kept repeating it to himself as he drifted to sleep, she is healing. She is healing. She is healing.

They did the right thing, asking her to come here. 

He was doing the right thing, training her and feeding into that fire of hers.

Wasn't he?

________________________________________________________________________________

Sera sat on Rosie's bed when Nesta entered the tent. 

Nesta's heart dropped when Rosie was nowhere to be found in the tent. 

When Sera looked up at Nesta, her eyes were red and rimmed with tears. 

But a kind of ferocity reflected there that told Nesta all she needed to know. 

"They took her." Nesta spoke quietly. 

Sera nodded. 

"Her father came. She's payment for a higher rank." Her wings shook with rage as she spoke. 

Nesta nodded. That quiet numbness gave way to a complete silence. 

Nothing in her head. Nothing but one word, one person, one desperation to save and protect and avenge. 

Rosie. 

"Show me where. You can stay, prepare for when I bring her back." Her voice had never been so steady. 

Sera shook her head. "I have to come with you. We have to fly there." 

A candle light flickered in the corner, the only light in the space. Nesta just then realized how dark it was. 

Sera's dark eyes seemed heavy. Not with sleep. 

"Then let's not waste time." Nesta said, extending a hand out to Sera. "Rosie doesn't have time to waste." 

Sera put her head in her hands, even as she stood. A sob escaped her. 

Nesta stepped toward her, a gentle hand to her arm. For the first time since arriving, her hands did not shake. 

"Come here." She whsipered as Sera folded into her. Nesta stood only a few inches taller then Sera, but she still lifted her chin and rested her head on top of the Illyrians. 

"We will stop this." Nesta said, to herself, to Sera. Sera let out a sigh and let her wings drop.

"I'm so exhausted. I'm so tired of it." Sera whispered, "We all are."

Proclaiming it to the world, Nesta said it again. "We will stop this. All of it." 

Sera spoke, her voice shaking. "All of it." The sound was muffled in Nesta's chest. 

The quiet within her roared Rosie's name. Iona's. Sera's and Carina's and Lori's. 

It roared her own name. 

All of it. 

Nesta kissed the top of Sera's head and pulled away. 

Sera nodded. Silently, the two women tussled about the room. 

Sera filled a small bag with water and some herbs, and then sheathed two daggers at her side. 

Nesta took off her cloak and took her braid out, resettleing her hair in a low ponytail. 

Turning, she saw Sera lifting the rug and pull off the boards of the false floor. Instead of simple papers, though, a sword lay there on top of the stacks. 

The wicked curved blade was as long as Nesta's arm, and the hilt was pointed, making it a double ended weapon. Along the side of the blade, the chant to ward off evil was inscribed into the metal. The sword glew golden in the candle light. 

Sera lifted it by the handle out of the compartment. 

The Illyrian then held it out to Nesta, hilt first. 

An offering. 

Sera spoke. 

"The smiths at the end of camp made this after you first visited months ago. They made it from the silver at the foot of Ramiel mountians. Devlon practically begged them to smith it." 

Nesta still did not take the hilt. 

"If asked, they will deny this until thier last breath, but we all know it to be true." She paused, standing. Nesta stood to face her, only the sword between them. 

"This was a weapon born from fear. It was created, inscribed, and intented to serve one purpose." 

Still, Nesta did not take the hilt. 

"This is a Witches Excution blade. Born from the fires of Windhaven and the silver of Ramiel to kill one witch and one witch only." Sera still held it, hands still and eyes sharp. 

"Devlon, his second, the males and warriors of Windhaven had this blade forged to kill you, Nesta." 

A breath.

Then, and only then, did Nesta take the hilt. 

It was shaking hands with the darkness. It was a war cry from the silence within her. A peice of her magic extended into the blade, running a gleam of white down the sides. 

She was a danmed creature, anguised and wretched. This blade was as damned as she. 

Sera slid her fingertip along the flat of the blade as Nesta took it from her. It was perfectly balanced, completely fitted to her palm. After all, it was made for her. 

How wonderful that it felt perfect in her hand. How poetic that this blade should be an extension of herself. 

"I hope you kill him with it, Nesta." Sera said, crouching to close the false floor again. 

"Which one?" Nesta asked. Sera huffed a small laugh from where she was pulling the rug back, but Nesta was not joking. 

Standing, wiping her eye, and securing her pack on her hip, Sera replied. 

"All of them." 

____________________________________________________________________

Jaida was having a quiet night. She was not expecting Nesta and Sera to be sulking through the camp armed to the teeth. 

Devlon entrusted Jaida to do many things. 

Stopping a massacure was not on that list. 

So, Jaida watched from her window as Sera grabbed Nesta by the waist and shot up into the night. The female was smart. She knew where they were giong, what they were doing. 

She had heard Rosie's pleas as her father had taken her away. She coudn't do anything about it then. 

So Jaida supposed she could do nothing to stop the to females as the soared above Windhaven. Toward that damned camp between here and Ironcrest. Toward those males. 

Jaida decided she would have a hot bath drawn for the two of them when they returned. 

___________________________________________________________________________

The air whipped around them as Sera gripped Nesta tighter. To her credit, she did not falter one step after Sera told her she would have to fly to the camp. 

Sitting between Ironcrest and Windhaven, the camp was out of the juristictoin of either camp and therefore the campground for all kind of disgusting behavior. Mainly the buying and selling of females, but other petty things like drugs and stolen items were sold on its blackmarket. 

Sera had been there many times. It could have easily been her that was sold tonight instead of Rosie 

She would give anything for it to be her instead of Rosie. 

They took care of eachother. When they would return, broken and used, the other would always bring them back to life. A bath, a change of clothes, brushing the other's hair. 

Often, Rosie wouldn't want to be touched at all when she returned. On those nights, Sera would simply sit by her side on the bed. Sometimes, that silence was the most healing she could provide. 

Sera would rejoyce in helping Nesta burn it all to the ground. 

After an hour flight, nothing but silence and ripping wind between them, Sera descended through the canpoy of the heavy forest and landed. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Nesta bent over and threw up. 

Sera held her hair and stroked her back. The Witches blade was sheathed at her side, the glint of silver like a star in the moonlight. 

Lori had been the one to theive it from Devlon. He could do nothing, lest he expose the true intentions of the weapon's creation to Azriel. So, the sword lay there, awaiting the time Nesta would return. 

Yes, the women of Windhaven had been waiting for a witch like Nesta for a long time. 

Nesta straightned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Sera offered her the canteen she brough, which Nesta accepted. She had been completely silent, not a word breathed the whole trip. As soon as Nesta took the sword, her words left her. 

Sera didn't blame her. It was a mythic weapon, curved gently and double edged. The inscription followed that curve, the last letter ending right at the tip. The hilt was a dagger all its own, the point as long as Sera's hand. The gaurd was solid and twisted, shaped like a single flame that wrapped over the users hand.

Sera could have sworn that guard glew dimly in the darkness, flickering like a true flame.

Nesta spit the water out, cleaning the bile from her mouth. Again, without a word, Nesta nodded to Sera. Sera returned the gesture, begenning the journey through the forest. They weren't far, but they had to approach carefully. 

The males had a watch, keeping thier nefarious ventures gaurded. But it didn't matter. They would find a way in. They would get Rosie out. 

And Nesta would kill Terthal. 

For all her glory and wretchedness, Sera was not sure she wanted to be around when Nesta finally swung that blade. 

Sera led the witch through the forest toward the edge of the camp. Toward Rosie. 

Toward salvation.


	29. Chapter 29- The First

ok listen this first part is feyre but please please please read it its so important and deals with serious issues that effect so many women around the world. 

Please dont skip it PLEASE. 

Feyre sat on the floor in the bathroom, her guts twisting in ways that made her face pale. There was some kind of emergency meeting this morning, which Feyre had insisted she attend, but when she fainted not once but twice that morning, Rhys had insisted she stay behind. 

She felt absolutely gutted. She had thrown up twice since he had left.

Feyre was late. Her cycle had become regular since becoming High Fae, but for the first time, she was late. She was never late. 

But if she truly was...

Heat swept up her neck and she turned to lean over the toilet once again. 

Rhys would be able to tell, wouldn't he? The scent should be all over her if it were true. He would know. Everyone would know. 

She thought it would be like a spark inside of her. Like she would know the instant life was growing, the instant thier lives would change. 

Instead, it was the bathroom floor and her own bile and a raging question burning fires in her mind. 

Finally feeling the tide of neasua waning, Feyre uncurled herself from over the toilet, reaching for the towel beside her to wipe her mouth. 

It felt like her life had been a series of misfortunes. When a blessing may finally come her way, it had to come with the worst side effects. 

Only the face of a young boy, eyes peircing and hair like the night, brought her to her feet and spalshed water on her face. 

Only the image of her mate, her love, her life, holding the blanket wrapped baby moved her to the kitchen and poured her a drink of water. 

Only the thought of losing something so precious got her out the door and on her way to the healers. Verra would know how to help. 

Feyre could not stand not knowing. And she wasn't sure which truth would weigh heavier on her heart. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Verra was changing the bandages on a sleeping Iona when there was a light knock on the door. 

It was odd, two knocks, a pause and a groan, and then another knock. 

As Iona was still asleep and Verra was almost done, they stepped off the step stool and walked to the door.

The High Lady of the Night Court was hunched over, back to Verra, arm braced against the door frame and puking into the grass outside. 

Verra spurred to action, thier hand gliding over Feyre's back and holding her hair out of the way.

The High Lady leaning into Verra's touch, the healer letting slip just a touch of golden magic into her. 

Iona was stubborn, refusing to accept the use of any of Verra's magic.

Verra decided she would not give Feyre a choice. 

She spit a few times into the grass, and Verra took a peice of gauze from their waistband and offered it to the High Lady, who accepted it. 

Feyre straightened, standing barely an inch higher the Verra. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered, still wiping her mouth. "About the grass." 

Chuckling, Verra replied, "It's no matter. Come, My Lady." 

Closing Iona's door behind them, Verra led Feyre a few steps further to the door to the healers exam area. Simple things, a child with a broken bone, the flu, a bad cut- simple things were delt with here. 

Verra wasn't sure if anything with the Night Court was a 'simple thing', yet they brought Feyre into the first exam room anyway.

Room was a but of an overstatement.

Built into the mountian much like Iona's room, the whole space was cavernous. A main hallway down the center split the room in half, and canvas hanging from the celeing seperated the large space into smaller rooms where patients could have some privacy. 

Verra led Feyre to the second flap, brushing aside the canvas for the High Lady to enter. 

She immideatly went to the cot that sat in the center of the room and lay down. She was pale and clamy, and put a hand over her eyes as if the candle light bothered her. 

Verra turned down the lamp, darkening the room and Feyre removed her hand from her eyes. 

"Have you had a fever?" The healer asked, jumping into action. They pumped water from the spigot in the corner of the room into a large bowl and wetted a cloth as Feyre responded. 

"No." She hesitated. "Verra, I-" 

"You haven't sustained any major injuries or traumas of late, correct?" Verra rung out the cloth and pressed it to Feyre's brow. 

The High Lady's body instantly relaxed, the coolness on her forehead spreading through her body. She closed her eyes. 

"How long ago is 'as of late?'" Feyre mused, a small smile on her face. 

But Verra was in work mode, focused on their work as they responded. 

"Within the last two months." Thier delicate hands moved the cloth down the side of Feyre's face. 

Feyre shook her head, amused. 

"Do you mind if I feel around your abdomen?" Verra asked, returning the cloth to Feyre's forehead and moving thier fingers above Feyre's stomach.

"Well, Verra, I don't think I'm sick, I-" 

"You just threw up all over Henery's flowers, your pale and clammy, fevered, and have a sensitivity to light." Vera said, thier hands still poised above Feyre's stomach. 

Feyre sighed, and nodded to Verra.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" The healer pressed three fingers into Feyre's abdomen. 

Feyre shook her head. 

"What about here?" Another three fingers, a different spot. 

Still no pain. 

"And here?"

Nothing. If there was no pain, that was a good thing, right? It ruled out true ailments, it made the possibility real and raw and right in front of her. This was it. She was going to go back to the cabin with the news she and Rhys had been waiting for. She-

"Here?" 

A dagger shot through Feyre's side, the pain white and hot. She cried out, her hands shooting toward Verra's and pushing them away from her. 

"Alright, so there. I'm sorry, My Lady, I need to try a few more places to be sure, alright?" 

Verra was all kinds of reassuring and kind, but still a heaviness weighed in Feyre. 

The pain had been right where Feyre's hopes lay, right below her belly button. Right where her child would grow.

Verra pressed thier fingers into a few different places, the pain echoing through Feyre's body. The healer made no sounds, asked no more question as they moved thier fingers off Feyre. 

Though they made no sound, thier brow creased at Feyre's groans.

Standing still, the healer summonded some of that golden magic, thier hands surrounded by it like liquid sunshine. 

"Can you lift up your shirt for me?" They asked, hands hovering over that same place, that same hope Feyre was begenning to lose. The high lady obliged, and Verra placed to warm hands just under Feyre's belly button. 

They closed thier eyes, the pressure from thier hands making Feyre grind her teeth to keep from crying out. Verra moved thier hands over Feyre, pausing every once in a while and creasing their eyebrows. Feyre couldn't watch. Every pause, every shift in thier face, every movement stirred greater fear in her then Feyre could remember. 

Tears of pain and fear and greif wallowed in her eyes and slipped down the sides of her face as she looked to the rocky celeing. 

Feyre knew it wouldn't be easy. Knew Fae pregnancy and birth was the stuff of legends, children being so rare and so precious. She knew. It didn't make it hurt any less, though, waking up each morning and knowing they may never meet the precious boy the Bone Carver had shown them.

Mercifully, the healer pulled her hands away. Verra pulled Feyre's shirt back down and switched out the cloth on her forehead for a fresh cool one.

Verra pulled a stool to sit beside the cot. Feyre moved the cloth to cover her eyes. Her head hurt. Her body raged against her. She could tell, could feel something very very wrong inside of her.

If she had already been with child, and had lost it-

"I don't want you to worry, My Lady." Verra blessedly broke Feyre's train of thought. Lifting the cloth, Feyre pushed herslef up onto her elbows to meet pericing blue eyes of the healer. 

They were heavy with something. Pity. Sadness. Hopelessness. 

Verra put a gentle hand on Feyres. "You stay here and rest. Take this for the pain." 

The healer shifted, reaching for a dark green drink and handing it to Feyre.

"Where are you going?" Feyre asked, grimacing as she swept back the green concotion. 

Verra stood, grabbing the small glass from Feyre. 

"I'm going to fetch Rhysand." 

Feyre's heart dropped, an endless descent into a darkness she had feared more then death. 

The healer nodded knowingly. "You'll want him to be here for this conversation, Feyre." 

The High Lady could do nothing more then nod. Verra slipped out the canvas leaving Feyre alone. 

Feyre could feel it inside of her. She knew, she was truly alone. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Cassian awoke again to a cold bed. 

Which he did not mind, knowing the one person he wished to share his bed with was having a sleepover. 

Nesta Archeron and sleepover didn't seem to fit together very well in his mind, but he trusted her. 

Besides, he doubted they were painting eachothers nails and gossiping. 

They probably harassed some poor male in the tavern. 

Cassian sat up, the soft quilt falling down his chest as he streched his arms and wings. Yawning in the morning, he pulled the bankets back and touched his feet to the cold floor. 

He padded quietly through the bedroom and hallway to the kitchen, where the cooler held a bottle of goats milk he had bartered Carina for. The trade was she got to touch his bicep. 

Cassian laughed in spite of himself as he uncorked it and took a heavy drink. 

"You are going to have an exciting morning, bedhead." 

Cassian didn't turn to look at Henery as he entered the kitched. He wasn't suprised- this was his house. 

"Why's that?" The glass clinked as Cassian set the milk bottle back in the cooler. 

Henery didn't answer the question. "Where's your witch?" The old man asked, crossing behind Cassian to the flower pot at the windowsill. 

Cassian watched him inspect the white and blue flowers. "She stayed in the tents last night." 

Henery cackled. His slender frame bent over at the waist, and he was holding his cane for balance as they joyous sound erupted from him. 

"Is everything alright?" Cassian asked, careful to make sure the laughter didn't turn into a coughing fit. 

Henery winded down, taking his thick glasses off and wiping a few tears from them. He was laughing so hard he was crying. 

"You know I never took you for a fool boy." Henery said, crossing back pas Cassian to the enterance of the kitchen. 

"But you are an absolute nitwit-"

Henery hit Cassian in the head with his cane as he passed,

"-If you beleive that." 

His wrinkled wings flared as he let out another chuckle, leaving Cassian in the kitchen. 

Cassian stay there, leaning agianst the counter. 

Henery was a crazy old koot. How could he have more insight on Nesta then he did? 

He was her mate, for Mothers sake. He knew her. 

For all her masks and puzzles and anger and wickedness- he knew her. 

And Cassian knew Nesta would not lie to him. 

And yet- a seed was planted. A twisting wretched tree begenning to grow in his mind-

Would she? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a shouting from the living room. 

"Oh yeah, by the way!" Henery shouted. Cassian moved to stick his head out of the kitched to see Henery in the doorway. 

"Rhysie sent me to come get you. He used words like emergency and come quickly and-"

"Henery, why didn't you lead with that!?" Cassian growled as he spurred into action, sprinting to his room and getting dressed. 

"IT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS FUN AND YOU KNOW IT!" Cassian heard Henery shout before the heavy thud of the front door slamming shut.

It didn't take Cassian but two minutes to dress himself and strap his weaponry on. He grabbed a ribbon from his nightstand and put his hair up as he ran out the door. 

The morning chill hit him like a ton of bricks. The tempature was dropping, the skies were cloudy, and the winds whipped at his skin.

She wouldn't lie to him. He was sure of it. Nesta was many things, but she was not a lair. 

Especially never to him. 

Right?

________________________________________________________________________________

The water whipped around her. It ripped at her skin and stole her breath away. 

Nesta didn't know water could be so cold. 

She lay there in the river at the bottom of the plateau. River may have been an overstatement, as the water barely ran high enough to run over her face. 

Nesta had discovered last night that running water, water that raged and hissed and screamed into the silence of the forest- that was the water she could wash herself in. The stale hot and heavy water of a bath was cramping and confining and brought her back to a blackness she would never face. 

But this water, the water that screamed across her bare arms and tore her skin from her bones with cold, was the kind of water she would glady submit herself too. 

There was power in water. She had forgotten that in spending so much time fearing it. The power of this water had carved this path through the ground for an eternity. Before Nesta was a star in the sky, before the first breath was taken of this worlds air, this water had been flowing with as much ferocity as it was now. An ancient, mythic beast worse then any man could preach himself to be- that's what this water was. 

She was not afraid to lay herself into it. 

She was not afraid to wash her crimson stained body in it. 

Nesta was hypnotized, watching the death release where it clung to her body, watching the red ribbons be torn downstream with that mythic power of the water. 

So she bathed. She settled herself, bloody and beaten, into that water. 

There she had lay since Rosie and Sera had made it back to camp safely. 

There she had lay since she left the gift for Devlon on his doorstep in the darkness of the night. 

And there she could continue to lay, until her mind came back to her and her body stopped hurting. 

Water that was stagnant, still water that like the walls of a cell would keep one confined and entrapped lest you be pulled under by hands unseen- that was the kind of water Nesta would still not touch. It was the stillness that threatened her, a stillness that could hide anything and drag you under, leaving only small ripples on the surface once you were gone.

That was the water Nesta had been fighting to conquer all these months. 

But moving water- water that raged and thrased and damned what stood in it's way-that was the water Nesta had been seeking. Water that was as angry and merciless as she felt inside, water that tore and ripped even at the kind flowers that grew on it's banks, water that was kind to some and murderous to others- that was the kind of water Nesta didn't have to conquer. 

It was already a part of her, already one with her own rage. Nothing could hide in the current Nesta found herself in. There were no dark still corners for blackness to sweep in and drag her under. 

Only hot white streams that screamed past her ears as she lay in the water, letting it cascade over her. 

The silver of the Witches Excutioner stung cold in her palm. The blade had served her well the night before. The swords she had trained with had been heavy steel, clunky and thick made for heavy hits. The blade Sera had graced her with the night before was a songbird, singing to her as she swung it. It was light and agile, almost with a mind of it's own as easily as Nesta could weild it. 

The curved edges on both sides had proven themelves wickedly effecient.

Nesta had only killed one. Had only went into the Pit with the intent to kill one. 

Yet she found that after one swing of the glorious sword, that first chord in it's deadly orchestra, Nesta could not put the blade down. 

So yes, she only killed one. 

But not one male she encountered left the Pit unscathed. 

They couldn't disclose where they got the injuries from, for if they did the whole secret operation would be blown. Nesta knew that. The males she encountered knew that. 

So it was with glee and anticipation that Nesta marked each one for death with a swipe of the Witches Excutioner. 

She smiled and with a deep breath, sat up from the river. Nesta brought her knees to her chest, the bite of the cold morning settling onto her wet skin. Looking at her hands, looking into every crack and crevase, running her hands through her hair and wringing it out- it was just as she thought. 

The water had washed away everything. 

Again, Nesta smiled. 

Nesta lifted the Witches Excutioner from the biting water, the silver gleaming as the droplets ran off of it. The blade, too, was rid of the unclean blood, a shining restored to the blade. 

While it was a stunning weapon when completely clean, it was as beautiful if not more so when the gleaming silver was filmed over with deep red. 

Nesta stood, letting the morning settle onto her, over her bones, through her hair, into her mind. 

Perhaps what Rhys had said in Feyre's study held true. Perhaps she was going insane. 

But Nesta mused as she plucked her clothes from the river bank and redressed herself. 

She had never felt more sane.

_______________________________________________________________________

Cassian had no decorum as he entered the main hall, throwing open the door as he ran through. 

"I got here as soon as I could. Henery-" 

Rhys put a single hand up. "Do you know where Iona was last night?" 

Cassian's eyebrow creased. "I'd assume in her room with the healers. I was with her until the afternoon yesterday." 

He took a breath and took in the room. 

Devlon sat with his back to Cassian, his posture unreadable. Lori and Az sat across from him, the female perched on her chair, an absent look on her face. Her cheeks were taut- she was holding something back. Az sat with his arms crossed, and only then did Cassian notice the burlap sack on the table that all three of them were staring at. 

It was stained. 

Was that blood? 

Rhys contiued as Cassian stared at the bag. 

"Can we confirm that's where she was?" His brother said, but Lori huffed in annoyance. 

"I already told you, My Lord, I have it on several accounts that she was there all night."

Rhys turned. "I'm asking my General. Is that alright with you, Lori ?" 

The female had the audacity to hold the High Lord of the Night Courts eye. 

Rhys turned again to face Cassian. But the General's eyes were still locked on the sack on the table. 

"Devlon." The High Lord said, waving a hand in the direction of the male and then stalking back to his seat at the head of the table. 

Rhys braced his arms against the back of the chair as Devlon spoke. 

"This was on my doorstep. I nearly tripped over it." 

A deep breath. Cassian came around the table, sitting next to Az. Now being able to see Devlon's face, Cassian marked how it was white as porcelain, his hands shaking slightly where they rest on the table. 

"We don't know anything. Who or how or why-" 

"Don't be stupid, Devlon, we know why." Lori remarked, standing from her chair. 

Az sighed. "We know exactly why." 

WARNING GROSS STUFF AHEAD

Lori looked to Cassian next to her, her hand reaching for the bag. 

Cassian nodded. 

Lori lifted the bag, the content hitting the table with a heavy THUD and a squish that made Cassian's stoamch twist. 

Tethal's glazed over eyes looked at Cassian from the sockets of his severed head. 

Cassian took a moment to look over the head. Terthal had been beaten, and badly at that. Fractured jaw, indented skull, bruises all over his face. A chunk of his right ear was missing. 

"You couldn't have at least closed his eyes?" Cassian breathed. 

Lori didn't miss a beat. "Whoever did this cut his eyelids off. Not a choice." 

Cassian could only nod. 

"No female could have done this, My Lord, least of all Iona." Devlon said, eyes downcast from the bloody head on the table.

The cut at his neck was clean. A fine blade did this deed, and a skilled weilder carried it out. Cassian cursed himself for the grisly thought, but the cut was so even and perfect that a cup of tea would not spill if placed on the bloody stump. 

"I have learned many times not to ignore the cruelty a female is capable of." Rhys sat down in his chair. 

"I would suggest you do the same." He said, starring at the head. 

Cassian tilted his head, leaning in closer. Az eyed him. 

The general reached out and tilted the head, so more light shone on the face. 

There was something in Terthal's mouth. 

"Oh, Mother." Cassian sighed, reaching out and trying to open the mouth of the dead man before him. 

"Cassian what are-" 

"There's something in his mouth." He said, fighting the rigor mortis to try to see inside the mouth. 

The face was cold as ice and grotesque under Cassian's hand. Lori reached out to still the head while Cassian continued to work on the jaw.

With a sickening crack, the jaw broke open, revealing a small white paper laying gracefully on Tehrthal's tounge. 

Lori pulled away as Cassian reached for the note. 

The idea of the head suddenly reanimating and chomping down on his fingers irrationally played in his mind as he grabbed the paper quickly. 

"What is that?" Devlon grew more pale by the second. After Cassian pulled his hand away, the war lord reached for the bag and placed it over the head, some color returning to his face. 

"It's a note." Az said. "They're toying with us." 

Lori did not look scared as she said, "I can read it if you don't have the stomach to."

Cassian looked at the female to see if there was any humor in her words, but he found only stony seriousness as she nodded to his hand. 

He shook his head, wiping his hands on his pants before unfolding the note. 

Cassian read aloud. 

He is the first. 

The note did not say it, but the message was clear. 

He would not be the last.


	30. Chapter 30- Aftermath

Camp was bustling when Nesta returned. 

News had broke by now, and as she strode through camp, she could see a throng of males crowded around and in the tavern. No one noticed her presence as she passed, to riled up to notice a simple cloaked female. 

The females, though, took notice of her. Mothers outside of thier cabins with thier children stared her down as if they could see through her. Young women went out of thier way to avoid her as she walked. But something had shifted here in Windhaven. When the females acted this way to her when she first arrived, it was out of fear and hatred. An outisder they had to avoid and punish for her presence. 

Now, it was out of observence. As if Nesta were some sort of expermient and they wanted to see what would happen. 

Now, they were not scared of her. They were lying in wait. 

Which meant when the time came, they would be ready. 

Nesta smiled to herself as she continued walking. 

Without warning, someone rammed into her shoulder, practically knocking her to the ground. 

"Oh, shit, I-" 

Cassian stopped as soon as his eyes of choclate and honey met hers. Nesta's breath caught in her throat. 

Milliseconds. That's all she had to remember the nigth before, before the blood, before Rosie, before everything. 

Suddenly she was there, standing with her head on his chest as he hummed softly and swayed back and forth. His fingers stroking gently up and down her spine. His heartbeat a calm quiet song, stealing her from everything beyond the door. 

His shirt had been soft against her cheek. 

"Nesta, where were you last night?" 

Cassian was infront of her, his hand on her arm. 

He was so beautiful. The beauty of glowing embers, or the beauty of the dusk. 

"Nesta." Cassian shook her gently. 

"I was with Sera and Rosie, like I told you." That was not a lie. 

The Illyrian scanned her face, something urgent and roaring in his mind turning to something worried and deathly quiet. 

Cassian's calloused hand cupped her face. Nesta closed her eyes and took a breath, memorizing the feeling of that warmth on her skin. 

"Nes, are you alright?" He set the bag he was holding down and put his other hand on her cheek as well. 

She nodded. "I heard about what happened." Her throat was dry as she spoke.

Cassian's eyes went dark. "Whatever monster did this will never lay a finger on you." 

Monster. Monster. 

What did it mean to be a monster? A monster to one is a savior to another. Nesta had met plenty of monsters the night before. Those men were monsters. 

But maybe to kill a monster, you had to become one.

"I swear it." Cassian continued. "I will keep you safe."

Nesta could only nod. She wanted to bring her hand up to his, to feel his skin beneath her fingers. 

But she was unclean. 

She was a monster. 

Cassian pulled her in, arms wrapping around her like a coccoon. He smelt like a forest fire, roasting pine and the flicker of flame. 

Nesta brough her arms up around his neck, but secured her hands on his leathers. She would not touch his skin until she was clean. Until she was releived of the weight on her back. 

Cassian said into her hair, "I won't be back home until late tonight." 

Nesta nodded, breaking the embrace first. Cassian's hands were still around her waist.

"I'll see you tonight, then." She said, her voice sounding forigen and inhuman to her ears. 

But if it sounded strange to Cassian he didn't show it. He simply nodded. 

When Nesta turned to leave, though, Cassian pulled her back, the hands around her waist a bear trap. 

Nesta opened her mouth to object, but Cassian's lips crashed onto hers before she could make a sound. 

A spatter of blood had ran right across her lips when she had decapitated Terthal. 

Cassian pulled away. "You have no idea how releived I am to see you. This morning has been.." 

Nesta took a step back, physically removing his hands from her waist. 

"I'll see you tonight, then." She repeated. 

Cassian said nothing as she turned and continued walking. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Verra didn't knock as they entered the Main Hall. 

Rhys was sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by angry males all shouting about something. Lori nodded to them from the corner where she stood behind Rhys. Azriel sat to Rhys's right. Devlond sat in silence to his left. 

Verra caught Azriel's eye, summoning him with their head. 

The spymaster stood, crossing to the doorway where Verra shut the door behind them. 

The Illyrian said nothing as he aproached, so Verra spoke first. 

"I need Rhysand to come with me." They said, as calmly and quietly as they could. 

Azriel narrowed his eyes. Verra added, "It's about Feyre." 

At even the quietest metion of his mate's name, Rhys's attention snapped over Azriels shoulder and onto Verra. 

Verra nodded, confirming what Rhys had heard. 

Rhys stood, announcing to the males around the table, "My second is going to continue this meeting." 

The males roared, until a third figure stepped out of the darkness, one Verra had not seen when they first walked in. 

Amren stepped from the wall by Lori to sit at the chair Rhys had just left. The males were silent. 

Verra opened the door as the anchient one spoke, "Shall we continue?" 

Rhys and Verra walked quickly through the camp, the healers place just a little ways away from the main hall. Verra could read the worry all over Rhys, though he was doing a good job of hiding it while they were in view of the others aorund them. Once they left camp though and were in view of the enterance, Rhys broke into a run and entered the exam space several paces before Verra. 

As they entered the space, Verra could hear their voices- Rhys's full of concern and worry and Feyre's not much more confident. 

Verra let themselves wonder, only for a moment, what it would be like to have someone care about them like that. 

Pulling back the canvas, Verra saw a pale Feyre sitting up and being supported by a very red Rhys. Feyre stilled as soon as Verra entered the space.

"I knew I shouldn't have left you this morning. I'm so sor-" 

Feyre stopped Rhys with a simple hand on his cheek. "You couldn't have known." 

Warning! Trigger for infertility/pregnancy loss

Rhys redirected his worry into frustration, looking to Verra. "Know what? What is wrong with her?" 

Verra pulled a stool to sit next to the cot. They had another chair for Rhys, but they should have know he would choose to be as close to Feyre as possible. 

Verra began what would be a very difficult conversation. 

"Feyre is experiencing what we call an outer-removed pregnancy." 

At that one word, Rhys and Feyre both went still as death. This was something they had hoped for, something they had longed for.

Verra swallowed the guilt and continued. 

"It is when the pregnancy attaches outside of the womb, in Feyre's case completely on the outer wall. If left to grow, it could cause blood loss, organ failure, and infertility." 

The high royalty said nothing. Rhys tightened his arm around Feyre, and she placed a hand over her abdomen. Silent tears, silver and bright, ran down Feyre's face. She were waiting for Verra to continue. 

"Feyre, I want to rehiterate." Verra paused, waiting for confirmation Feyre was listening. She nodded. Verra leaned foreward. 

"This is not a result of anything you have done. There is nothing wrong with you. You are still fertile and you are in perfect health otherwise. " 

Feyre took a shaky breath. "Then how did I..." She let out a small sob. "How did this happen?" 

Rhys buried his head in her shoulder, his shoulders shaking with a silent cry.

Verra loved working for the High Royalty. But they knew this would be the hardest part. Having to share news that would break them. 

"This is common in High Fae, Feyre. I have treated this in hundreds of people. We don't know why it happenes. Sometimes pregnancies simply are not viable." They said, noting how Rhys's shoulders continued to shake. 

"I know you both know this- children are precious. The road to a safe, vaible and healthy pregnancy is going to be full of moments like this." 

Feyre shook her head, her hand going to her mate's face, stroking his hair in any kind of comfort. 

"I just wanted this one thing." The High Lady said, her hand still at her belly. 

"This one joy to come simply." The honesty in her words tore Verra to shreds. 

So Verra offered an honest in return. "Children are the furthest thing from simplicity, My Lady."

The High Lady almost smiled. Rhys kept his head on her shoulder.

Feyre sat up, wiping her eyes. More tears rolled to replace them, but Feyre paid them no heed.

"So what are our next steps?" Her voice was broken, shaking, barely understandable. 

Verra had always admired Feyre for her strength. But they knew as soon as Verra left the room, Feyre would break. 

And that was okay. 

"So I'll need to go in and remove the pregnancy so it doesn't cause further damage. We'll need to do that as soon as possible." 

Now Rhy's head popped up, his arms still around Feyre. His eyes were red a swollen, his nose the same and he sniffled. "Are we talking about surgery?" 

Verra shook their head. "It won't be an invasive surgey. We make a small incision and my magic does the rest." 

Rhys nodded, uncertanity still written on his face. 

The Healer added, "I've done this procedue more times then there are stars in the sky." 

Feyre spoke up. "And then what?" 

"Then, recovery begins." 

________________________________________________________________________________

Rosie sat in the bathtub, clinging to Sera, still shaking. Sera stroked her blonde curls, rinsing out the last of the shampoo with her fingers. 

A light knock on the door drew Sera's attention. 

From the other side, Jaida spoke gently, "Just checking in. Do you either of you need anything?" 

Sera looked down at Rosie, who shook her head, her wet hair sticking to Sera's skin. 

"We're alright." She replied, followed by a meek Rosie, "Thank you, Jaida." 

The female responded from behind the door. "Of course, Rosie. If you need anything, give me a shout." 

Sera thanked Jaida and heard her pace back down the hallway. 

Sera looked back to Rosie. She was clean now, all the reminants of the night before washed away with the water. By her request, Sera and Jaida had changed the water three times. 

Rosie insisted that Sera wash her hair each time the water was changed. Half an hour ago, when Jaida had left the room with the last pail of warm water, Rosie had asked Sera to join her. 

Without hesitation, the female dipped out of her heavy cloak and clothing and joined Rosie in the tub. Rosie had immideatly clambered into her lap, as well as she could in the small tub, and there she had stayed. 

"There, " Sera said as she finished the last section of Rosie's hair. "All clean." 

Rosie repeated, "All clean." 

Sera continued stoking her fingers through Rosie's hair, watching the curls spring back up as she reached the ends. Rosie closed her eyes and her shaking waned, only a light shiver. 

There would be consequences for taking Rosie, getting her out of the Pit. There was still payment to be made, and someone would have to pay that price. 

But Sera would rather burn in Dark Hel for eternity then let that price be Rosie. 

"Is it morning?" Rosie spoke carefully, as if asking would prevent morning from ever coming. 

Sera looked to the window at Rosie's back, the curtian drawn. Light shined through the dark curtians. 

"Yes, Rosebud." Sera said, kissing the top of Rosie's head. "It's morning." 

"I made it until morning." She said, a smile gracing her face. Sera had never seen anything more beautiful. 

"You made it." Sera put a hand on Rosie's cheek, pulling her face of her chest to look at her. 

"And I am so proud of you." Sera said, "Now we just make it through the next hour." 

Rosie nodded. "Then the next." 

Sera placed a gentle kiss on Rosie's forehead. "And then the next."

Rosie's honey eyes met hers. Silver tread lined them like a tragic tapestry. 

"Thank you for saving me." The female said, her shaking completely stopping. Rosie cupped Sera's face, and Sera brought her hands up to Rosie's. 

The raw skin from where Rosie was restrained glew red, still tender to the touch. But Sera was careful to avoid it, her fingers dancing on the back of Rosie's hands. 

"You are my life." She said, placing a gentle kiss on Rosie's palm. "To save you is to save myself." 

Rosie gave a small chuckle, the sound a flower makes when it blooms. "You are not selfish." 

Sera smiled. "When it comes to you I am." 

Rosie leaned foreward and kissed Sera, gently and sweetly. She pulled away, then as if she hadn't truly felt it, kissed Sera again. 

Sera smiled on Rosie's lips. 

Hour by hour, they would make it through this day. Then the next, and then the next. 

They would make it.


	31. Chapter 31- The Witches of Windhaven

Nesta knocked on Iona's door. There was a mild shuffling from inside, followed by a chipper Iona calling from the other side of the door, 

"Come in!" 

The door groaned as Nesta opened it. The warmth of the room spilled over her, a stark contrast from the cold outside. 

Iona was sitting in a chair by the counter, cutting something up to put into the pot of stew steaming on the fireplace. It smelled divine. 

When Iona turned and saw Nesta, her face went hard. Nesta said nothing, just quietly closed the door and stepped into the space, waiting for Iona. 

To do what, Nesta wasn't sure. But still, she stood waiting. 

Iona slowly stood from the chair. Nesta had not seen Iona at her full height for quite some time, and had forgotten just how intimidating the female was. With her skeletal wings still wrapped, she looked almost angelic. 

Finally, Iona spoke. 

"Is it done?" She whispered, her voice a crackling echo of the fire. 

Nesta nodded. 

The female sighed, as if a weight had left her shoulder. She limped the few steps to the table and motioned for Nesta to sit across from her. 

"My brother was a monster." She said, rubbing her face. The sun streamed through the window and perfectly illuminated Iona's hair, highlighting it with gold. 

Nesta untied the small pouch from her waist and placed it on the table between them. 

"I killed him like one." Nesta said, looking at the pouch. 

Gross warning!!

Iona tilted her head, confused. 

Nesta nodded to the bag. 

Carefully, Iona reached out and opened the drawstrings. 

The emotions passed over her face in seconds. 

Confusion, realization, disgust, disbeleif. 

"Nesta..." Iona breathed, "What..what are those?" 

Perhaps she was a monster. Nesta was starting to think she didn't mind. 

"I made sure he had to watch. He couldn't close his eyes." She said, plainly and simply. 

Iona's face twisted in horror. 

"Those are his eyelids?" 

Nesta nodded. She expected Iona to throw the bag at her, or shout, or cry. 

But as Iona stared into the bag, into the two small strips of flesh that lay within it, she simply began to nod. Resolve washed over her features. 

No, not resolve. Triumph. 

She looked at Nesta carefully, as if assessing if she was still a threat. But Nesta sat still, waited. 

Iona took a deep breath. 

"Did he scream?" 

Nesta nodded. Iona almost smiled. 

"Did he beg you? To spare his life, did he beg you?" 

Nesta smiled wide. "Like a child." 

Please, please, for the love of Mother above, I will do anything! 

Give Iona her wings back. 

I- I can't- 

Then I guess you are out of luck. 

Nesta chuckled a bit at the memory. 

The female across from her nodded slowly. 

"You promised me another." She said, ignoring the bubbling of the stew and holding Nesta's gaze. 

Nesta's hair fell around her face as she shook her head. "No, not Devlon. Not yet." 

Iona sat foreward. "Why? He is part of thi-" 

"Kallon. Kallon and his father die first." 

"The Ironcrest warlord?" 

Nesta nodded. "More still before him." 

A pause. Nesta was still staring at the pouch on the table. Iona leaned forward. 

"You're really doing this, aren't you?" Her voice was gentle and kind, far warmer then anything Nesta deserved. 

Nesta took a deep breath.

"It's the only thing I can do." The blade hung heavy from her hip, concealed by her cloak. 

"Nesta," Iona lay a gentle hand on her atop the table. Nesta felt guilty. Not for murdering her brother, not for anything she had done. But for envoking her pity. Nesta did not deserve pity. 

"Nesta," Iona repeated, "You don't have to become-" 

"A monster?" Nesta met Iona's gaze. It was all pity. All sympathy. It made Nesta sick. 

"An exicutioner." Iona corrected, squeezing Nesta's hand. "I consider you a freind, Nesta." 

Nesta flipped her hand over and grasped Iona's hand back. 

"I don't want to see you go dark like you were when you got here." Iona whispered. 

"I won't." Was all Nesta could say. 

To Nesta's releif, all Iona did was nod. Nesta pulled her hand away first, rubbing her palms on the tops of her thighs. She didn't realize her hands were sweating. 

"I'm going to see Jaida. Is there anything you want me to tell her?" Nesta asked, standing up and waking a few steps toward the door. 

Iona, with that pity smeared all over her face, shook her head. "No." 

Nesta had nothing more to say. 

Iona stood and limped back to the counter as Nesta left her room. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

Jaida had sent Rosie and Sera off with a few loaves of freshly baked bread and a gentle kiss on their foreheads. She knew she didn't have to worry about them, so long as they had eachother to lean on. 

It had been a trying night for all of them. Jaida had not seen Nesta come back with them, had not seen the girl all day, in fact. 

Which was why when she showed up on Jaida's doorstep at lunchtime with a single white flower, Jaida was perplexed. 

"Come in, dove. You'll catch a cold standing out there." Jaida said as she pulled Nesta inside by the arm. It had started sleeting and Nesta didn't even have the hood of her cloak up as she stood soaking to the bone. 

Nesta lingered in the entry way as Jaida shut the door behind her. 

"Nesta?" She asked cautiously. Nesta didn't move from the doorway. She simply stood there, empty. 

No, not empty. Jaida could see the white hot flame begin to dance on Nesta's fingers. 

"I need to let it practice." As she spoke, that white flame licked up her forearm. 

"I need to get it out, Jaida." Nesta didn't speak higher then a whisper, as if the effort to keep from exploding that magic was so overwhelming it took all of her willpower. 

Jaida nodded, slowly. Carefully. She knew Nesta wouldnt hurt her, but she also knew the female did not have full control of her power yet, and there was so many things that could go wrong. 

"Here," Jaida offered Nesta her hand. "Let's go out back." 

Nesta shook her head. 

Jaida prodded, "Why not, Dove?" 

"Someone will see." Nesta's eyes were not that of steel like they always were. No, today her eyes were that of a stormy sea. 

"They won't. We'll go into the forest." The white flame stopped at her elbows. 

Nesta stood in Jaida's front room, looking at nothing. Jaida dared to reach out for Nesta's shoulder. She was cold and wet to the touch. 

"Or we can go sit, and you can start me a fire? I'll make you some lunch, how does that sound?" 

As if comforted, that magic slipped back down her arm and simply laced through her fingers. Nesta nodded, already heading toward the fire. 

They didn't talk, didn't have to as Nesta started and kept the fire going with her magic. As she played and focused, Nesta relaized that to keep a fire, the idea was not focused on the flame. 

No, to keep the fire going, Nesta had to focus on the destruction of the logs. The flame was born from that, and if she tried to conjure the flame, the fire would begin to die. It took a few tries, and Jaida noted the sweat on her brow, but Nesta kept the fire going. 

As she did, Jaida took of her cloak and put a towel and warm blanket around her shoulders. Her hair was dishelved and falling out of it's ponytail. Nesta wqas practically catotonic, completely surrendered and focued in on that magic as Jaida took her hair down and brushed it, braiding from the crown of her head to the small of her back. 

When Nesta would grunt or wimper at the struggle of controlling the magic, Jaida would offer simple words of advice. No affirmation though. Jaida had learned that words of affirmation only frustrated Nesta. In the short time she had been in Windhaven, Nesta Archeron had proved to be Jaida's most interesting resident. 

When her hair was done, Jaida said one good work, Nesta, and started to make lunch for the both of them. Nesta had sat hunched over in front of the fire the whole time. 

"Alright, this is ready." Jaida said, taking the bowls down and ladeling two scoops of soup into a bowl for Nesta. 

"Here, Dove. Eat." Jaida placed the bowl on the floor in front of Nesta, but she did not move. 

She sat there, arms outstreched toward the fire. Her fingers, her arms, everything was still, as if she were encased in ice.

Nesta had been in it too long. Had been holding the flame for too long. 

"Nesta, look at me." Jaida knelt next to her, an arm across her shoulders. Nesta was freezing, even under the blanket. She did not move. 

Jaida swore under her breath. Reaching under the blanket, Jaida took Nesta's sword from her hip and the dagger from her thigh, as well as anything else bulky on her person. She did not move as Jaida worked, still in that moment, frozen in her power. 

Wrapping another blaket around Nesta, Jaida wrapped her hand around the nape of Nesta's neck. 

"I'm sorry about this, dove." She said. 

Jaida dug into that vat inside of her and jabbed her power through Nesta's system. 

Nesta immideatly collapsed onto Jaida, completely unconcious. 

"Hey, hey, hey, there we go, you're okay." She cooed as she lay Nesta gently against the chair Jaida was sitting in. Kicking the weaponry under the chair, Jaida lay Nesta's head against her knee. 

She was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling under the blankets. 

Cassian would have felt that through thier bond. He would come for her any minute. 

Jaida wondered how worried she needed to be about the girl. She had the Witches Exicutioner blade, she had used it to kill Terthal, and now she was retreating into her power to the point of unresponsivness. 

Nesta had Rosie and Sera, though, and if things were really bad Jaida would know about it through them. The night before had just been a lot for everyone involved. 

Devlon's wife had visited her eariler in the day. 

Yes, it was a long night for everyone. 

Nesta's breath was even as Jaida smoothed back her hair. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. 

She stood and laid Nesta's head against the chair, heading to the door. Opening it, a soaked Cassian stood there, worry painted on his face. 

"Jaida, I know this is so odd, but is N-" 

"She's in the sitting room." Jaida said, cutting him off. She stepped aside as Cassian let himself in. Closing the door, Jaida followed Cassian into the sitting room. 

"Holy shit, Nes." Cassian breathed as he crouched down beside her. "What happened?" 

Jaida didn't miss a beat. "She was so exhausted she came in here and passed out." 

A lie. It was bitter on her tounge and ashy in her voice, but Cassian didn't know either of them were using thier magic. And that was one secret she had to keep. 

Cassian had moved Nesta into his lap. Jaida crouched to thier level, watching Cassian twist the end of her braid in his finers. 

"You should bring her back to Henery's. Let her rest for the day." 

The male looked up at Jaida. Something like anger settled his features in sharp ways. 

Jadia had half a mind to step back. 

"Where was she last night, Jaida?" His words dared her to lie, challenging her. 

"Cassian, I don't know." 

"Bullshit." He spat, the edge in his voice making Jaida flinch. "You know where she was." 

Jaida knew it was because he was worried, that primal mating bond instrict that drove males insane. That was why he was acting like this. 

But it was also because he was suspecting it was Nesta. He probably knew it, deep down he knew it was Nesta who had killed Terthal. 

She would give Cassian a truth. She would sacrifice this one thing. Nesta would be livid, Verra may be, too. But Jaida didn't care if it kept the blade under the chair in Nesta's hands. 

"She's been practicing her magic. She was with Rosie and Sera practicing her magic." 

These half truths, these honest lies- they were starting to pile up. Jaida did not like lying to Cassian, not one bit. 

But Nesta needed her lies more then Cassian needed her honesty. So she continued. 

"She was practicing keeping the fire going and she just went blank and then fell unconcious." 

Cassian hadn't said a word, hadn't moved from where he was on the floor holding Nesta. She could practically feel the rage pouring off of him. 

She tried to keep telling herself that it was his instincts blinding him, enraging him beyond reason. She tried to tell herself that she had no reason to fear Cassian in that moment. 

But when he stood, back to her with Nesta in his arms, she remembered Cassian for all that he was. 

Not the smug, funny guy who always knew how to cheer her up. 

No. This was the Lord of Bloodshed. The Commanding General of the Illyrian Armies. 

"Jaida." He turned to face her. 

She could have sword his eyes glew red as he approached her. Cassian stopped right next to her, but Jaida stared stright foreward as he hissed into her ear;

"Never lie to me about my mate again." 

Before Jaida even had time to respond, he was out the door with Nesta. She let out the breath she had been holding, the room lightening now that the pair had left. 

Jaida had never been scared of Cassian. Even so, being with Nesta was doing something to him. It felt dark and twisted, past the primal agression of thier bond. The around him felt heavy and wrong and tainted. 

Corrupted. He had felt corrupted. 

Jaida took a few deep breaths before turning and shutting the front door. She leaned her back against it, contemplating. 

Witch. 

Evil, wicked, vile, twisted, horrific. 

Nesta, by defenition, was a witch. Not of her own volition, but a witch none the less. 

Did that make Nesta's evil any less sinful since she did not choose it herself? 

And if so, Jaida wondered, would her own evil be punished twice over? She had chosen this, she had done what she had to do. 

Jaida would continue to do what she had to do to protect those she loved. And that list now included Nesta.

She would have to plan her next visit to the Pit carefully.


	32. Chapter 32- Living Death

Nesta dreamt that a woman with feathered wings had pushed her into a bonfire. Her skin burned, her eyes melted and her hair crisped. She could smell herself burning alive. 

So when she awoke to the smell of smoke, she sat straight up, the pain searing her very bones. 

Somethins was smothering her, stuck to her skin and...soft. 

A blanket. She was in bed. 

The fireplace roared safely across the room. And the smoke she smlet was Cassian. 

She was in Cassian's bed, in his room, in Henery's house. 

Nesta took deep breaths, forcing herself back into her body. Back into the world. Fast, heavy, footsteps from down the hall firmly planted her back into reality. 

Cassian standing in the doorway wearing an apron almost made her smile. 

But she didn't. 

The Illyrian rushed foreward, perching on the side of the bed. He set the mug of tea he was holding on the side table. 

The closness of his arm as he reached right beside her to the side table, the way she could feel his eyes digging into her, and when he pulled back from the table he lay a gentle hand on one of Nesta's knees.

She shrunk back, tucking her knees under herself and scooting away from him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Nesta's face made Cassian revaluate his words. 

No worry left his face even as he said, "Do you always wake up screaming?" 

"Only when you're around." Nesta spat. 

Cassian was never good at hiding his feelings. His face was a page of one of her books, she could read and reread forever. So the sadness that flashed across his features was impossoble to miss. 

Nesta looked away. "What am I doing in here?" 

She heard the sheets shift, and sparring a glace saw that Cassian had his back to her, his wings draped across the bed. Relaxed. 

No, defeated. 

He was hunched over, elbows braced on his knees and head down. 

But still, he spoke. 

"You were with Jaida. She said you were, " A deep exhale. "Practicing your magic." 

Cassian threw a glace over his shoulder. 

"You lost it, let the magic control you instead of the other way around. That happens a lot in beginners with a heavy power load. But you know what can prevent that?" 

Nesta grunted in repsonse. 

"Siphons, Nesta." Cassian turned, pulling out the set of opals from his pocket. The jewlery gleamed in the firelight, the purples and oranges taungting Nesta as Cassian held them out. 

"You haven't been wearing them. Don't think I haven't noticed." He set the siphons on the sidetable. 

Nesta huffed a laugh, cruel and sharp, and flung the covers off her. She got off the bed- the opposite side of Cassian- and started toward the fire. 

She didn't hear Cassian move. "Why aren't you wearing them?" 

"Why do you care?" The words escaped her before she could stop them. 

A pause. A deep breath.

"You didn't just ask me that." Cassian was ready, dancing on his feet as he stood. 

Nesta turned from the fire. Her pride screamed at her, the magic within her raging at Cassian's challenge. Cassian's eyes danced with red. Okay, so a battle this was, then. She stood her ground, planting her feet and lifting her chin. 

"You aren't wearing yours right now." 

"I've had 500 years to learn to control it. You've had 10 months." Cassian lifted his arm and leaned it against the bed post. 

Cocky bastard. "I'm not wearing them. I don't want to, I don't need to. I do not need help w-" 

Cassian groaned. "Why do you think help makes you weak? All anyone has tried to do is help you!" 

"I asked you all to leave me alone and you ignored me. I told you how to help me and instead you did the exact opposite. Forgive me if you're help hasn't bee-" Nesta headed for the door, but Cassian caught her arm. 

"You were a drunk who slept around like it was your job." She didn't let the low blow hit her.

Nesta yanked her arm out of his and stuck a finger in his face, "My last drink was only a week ago. Do you think one week and 24 hours of kiss and makeup and suddenly I'm fine? " 

She expected Cassian to break. To give up or give in. But he did not such thing. 

"Do you think I'm stupid, Nesta?" He stepped foreward, practically chest to chest with her. 

She wasn't intimidated in the slighest. "I think you're blind. I think you beleive there's good in everyone even if they prove you wrong." 

His eyes softened. "You haven't." 

"Haven't what?" Nesta ignored the gentle hand that curled at her waist, the warmth that deeped through her clothes and into her skin. 

An honest smile graced Cassian's face. "Proved me wrong." 

Nesta's heart jumped. She cursed herself for it, cursed herself for not pulling away from him. 

"I don't want to fight, Nes." His breath danced on her lips as he spoke. He was intoxicating. 

"Stop looking at me like that." Nesta whispered, her hands pulling his off her waist. 

Cassian's grip was iron, though. "No, I'm not going to stop looking at you like this. And I'm not going to let you walk out of here when you're pissed." 

Nesta refused to look up at him. He let out a small laugh. 

"You can pout if you want, I'm not letting go." 

Nesta crossed her arms. "I'm not pouting." 

"No?" 

"No." 

Cassian leaned foreward, tilting his head down to kiss her forehead. Nesta turned her head away. 

"What's going on, Nes?" He breathed, leaning aginast the bedpost and pulling Nesta against him. She still looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nesta tried again to pull away from him, and this time Cassian relented. Cold blank spaces were left on her waist where his hands had been as she took a step away from him. 

Nesta turned and put her hand on the door handle. Just before she could turn the handle though, Cassian tugged on that thread between them, pulling Nesta away from the door. 

Pure anger shot through her. "Let me leave." 

Cassian's tone was smug. "You don't want to leave." 

Nesta snapped. Whatever had been holding her back, whatever killing calm she had been in left her and rage like lightning spiked through every part of her. 

She whipped around, seething. "You do not know what I want! You do not know what is best for me!" 

Cassian's brows shot up, but Nesta wasn't finished. 

"Everyone thinks they know what is best for me. You, Feyre, Amren- the only people who haven't are the females here. Sera, Rosie, Jaida, Iona. Henery for Mother's sake!" 

She again got right up in Cassian's face as she continued. Cassian did not look at her, only stared at the wall, his jaw clenched. 

"They see every part of me. The witch and the drunk and the evil and everything and they don-" 

Cassian did not hold his tounge this time, his eyes pericing as he faced her again. 

"I see every part of you, Nesta." 

"No," She stopped him, words jarring and aimed for the heart. "You see the parts of me you want to. You pick and choose and lie to yourself." 

His wings flaired, not backing down. They were at eachothers throats, fighting like dogs. 

"You're wrong. You don't see yourself the way I do." Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back, arms up. 

"I see myself the way I am. You see me the way you want me to be." 

Cassian shook his head. "Why are you so mad?" 

She simply stared back at him. Her chest heaved with pain and fury and sadness. 

"Why am I mad?" Nesta breathed. 

The male before her simple shrugged. "You are so furious. All the time. Sometimes people can't breath around you because of it."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm making life so hard for you." Nesta turned from him. 

Cassian, though, spun her back around and spat, "Nesta, stop it!" 

His voice, that sharp striking tone, rang through her head. 

"I want to understand. If you don't want me to help, fine, but I want to understand. Why?" 

This voice was gentle, longing, desperate. This was the end of his rope. 

Nesta threw his hands off her and stepped away from him, crossing to the other side of the bed. She sat, her back to Cassian, and took a deep breath. 

"I am mad," She began, "because two years ago, Feyre made a mistake. An honest mistake. It could have happened to any other hunter in the town. Any other family. But it was Feyre. It was Feyre who made a simple mistake." 

She heard Cassian sit down on the bed, the opposite side to her. 

Nesta continued. "But that mistake had to be paid for by thousands of innocent lives. All those soldiers, Illyrians, Fae, humans. Innocent people. My father."

She took a shuddering breath. "You. Almost you, twice. 

Cassian was sitting next to her now. His hand somehow found his way into hers. 

"I'm mad because Elain paid for it with her life. And now she doesn't even need me. Like her life never even existed before Prythian. But I..." 

Nesta felt something fall down her cheek. A tear. 

"I was shoved into that cauldron not knowing if I would come out alive. And you know what? I'm starting to think I didn't." 

Cassian's head fell. But Nesta continued. 

"I have been dead for months. I have been dead since that day and if I'm honest, I am content living in the afterlife. But everyone- everyone- keeps trying to pull me back to the land of the living." 

A light finger stroked her palm. Nesta brought her other hand in her lap and drew from the now still well of power. She brought that white light to her fingers, letting it dance over her fingertips. 

She shook her head as she continued. 

"My magic reflects that- it's decay and rot and ash. That's what I stole from the Cauldron." 

Cassian brought his hand into hers, resting his fingertips on her own. Nesta let that white streak dance over both of thier fingers, twirling inbetween and around his calloused hands. 

"The power of death. But you see how calming this is? Death?" She willed that stillness in her soul to show itself to him. She did not meet his eyes. 

"I am a Witch of Death. So if you need something to understand, Cassian, understand that I am not happy to be alive." 

Cassian stared at her from over thier fingers, where Nesta's magic still bobbed and weaved through. Nesta though simply watched that white bolt spin and twirl until she retracted it, the spark fizzling out around Cassian's pointer finger. 

Then, she looked to Cassian. Met his eyes. 

He was crying. A quiet, peaceful tear fell down his cheek. Nesta's hand left his as she cupped his cheek. 

She wiped his cheeks with her thumb. Cassian just stared at her. His look was unreadable. Nesta gently tilted his head down, and planted a gentle kiss on his forhead. 

Nesta stood, ready to leave Cassian alone with his thoughts. But his grip was iron on her hand still in his. Nesta turned back, only to see Cassian staring up at her. 

Another tear fell down his cheek, but he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I am so.." He choked up, but continued. "..so happy that you are alive, Nesta." 

She didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve to have this male with the eyes of chesnut and heart of gold looking at her like that. 

"Yes, you do. And I will look at you like this until you beleive it." He whispered into her palm as he flipped her hand over and kissed it. 

"Cassian-" Nesta breathed. 

"Can you just sit with me? Just for a little while?" He brought her hand, rough and warm, to his cheek as he rubbed her forearm, massaging it. 

Nesta stared. 

It was dark outside and the only light in the room was the firelight. The yellow and orange hues made golden of his brown hair, flowing freely to his shoulders. He still had the apron on. 

Nesta moved her hand from his cheek, through his hair, and down his neck, where she untied the knot in the apron. Cassian smiled. When Nesta pulled the apron off, she used the bottom of it to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

"You're crying too, you know." He chuckled as she dropped the apron on the floor. 

"I don't care." Nesta whispered back. 

Cassian made a small sound as Nesta crawled into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, breathing in as his arms twisted around her. The room darkened, and Nesta opened her eyes to see massive black wings curling around the both of them. 

Cassian's arms moved to support her form as he scooted back to the headboard. His arms tightened around her as Nesta folded her legs over him. His wings blacked out even the firelight and he ducked his head into the little cocoon Nesta had settled herself in. 

"I had a terrible day." Cassian whispered, kissing the top of her head. 

Completley envolped in his scent, Nesta may as well have been drunk. Every inch of her was comforted by the wildfire that was her Illyrian. His sweater was warm against her cheek. 

"Me too." Nesta whispered back. 

Cassian chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Let's call it over, then. What do you think?" 

Nesta nodded and lifted her head to look at him. "Let's call it over." 

He smiled. "Can I kiss you?" 

Nesta did not answer. Instead, she pulled Cassian in, closing the gap between them. Still under his wings, wrapped up in eachother, the kiss was not desperate. Not remorseful or sad. No, it was a kind and gentle kiss, like the setting sun kissing the glaciers before night falls. 

She pulled away and smiled, noting how his eyes remained closed and fluttered at her breath on his face. 

"Can I wear one of your shirts?" Nesta ran a hand through his hair, the silky strands falling through her fingers. 

"That-" Cassian leaned foreward and kissed her again, short and sweet. "-is a stupid question." 

Nesta smiled as Cassian's wigs retracted from around them. She unraveled herself from his lap, and though his arms clung to her waist longer then they should have, Nesta managed to stand from the bed. 

"When I get back I'll need that shirt." She said bluntly, gaining a laugh from Cassian as she left the room. 

Using the restroom and getting herself and Cassian a glass of water, Nesta returned to his bedroom to find a shirt and some pants laid out on the bed. Cassian was tending to the fire, preparing it for the night. He had already changed, his pajamas a fuzzy pair of pants and no shirt. 

She wasn't ready for him to see her. Not yet. She was still a skeleton. Still nothing she wanted to show him. 

"Cassian, don't turn around." She said, cautiously pulling her shirt off while keeping a keen eye on the male by the fire. 

"I won't, Nes." Was all he said. 

A smile spread on Nesta's face. She finished changing and set her old clothes on the floor by the nightstand. 

The shirt went down to almost her knees and the pants were about two sizes too big. Nesta decided to forgo the pants entirely, since the long sleeve shirt covered most of her anyway. 

Sliding the pants off and setting them on her own pile of clothes, Nesta spoke as she crawled into bed, "Okay, you're good." 

"I'll be there in a second." Cassian stood a moment later, satasified with the fire. 

Nesta was already burrowed into the blankets, though, as Cassian crept in beside her. 

"Come're." He whispered and held out his arms. 

For a split second, there was a nagging in Nesta that told her to turn and run. 

But after their conversation, Nesta realized why.

Yes, Nesta was content in her living death. But being with Cassian made her feel alive.

And that scared the shit out of her. 

Yet, she already found herself scooting closer to her wildfire, his arms pulling her in. Cassian's skin was warm as she buried her head in his neck. One arm under her head and the other around her waist, Cassian's hands stroked up and down Nesta's back. Nesta took a deep breath, relaxing into his touch. 

Cassian's wing draped across them both, the calm darkness engulfing them. Cassian hummed something as his hands continued, sending chills down Nesta's arms. 

"Wake me for training in the morning, Cass." Nesta was already half asleep, her lips brushing against Cassian's neck as she spoke. 

Nesta was not to asleep to notice, though, the goosebumps that raised on Cassian's skin and the sharp breath he took after she spoke. 

She pulled her head out of the crook of his neck to look up at him, only to find Cassian beaming with a smile brighter then the sun. 

"What?" 

Cassian's smile grew as he spoke. "I'm glad I was laying down, becasue if you had said that when I was standing I probably would have fainted." 

Nesta couldn't help but smile. "Said what... Cass?" 

Cassian nearly squealed when she spoke the nickname. Nesta laughed, tucking her head back into his neck. There were still goosebumps on his skin. 

"Yes, I will wake you up for training, Nes." He emphasized, adding a kiss on the top of her head for good measure. 

Even though she couldn't see him, Nesta could tell from his voice that he was smiling. 

"Goodnight, Cass." 

Cassian chuckled, tucking Nesta in tighter to himself and adjusting his wing. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He whispered.

Now it was Nesta's turn to beam. A shiver ran down her spine and goosebumps raised on her skin, receiving another laugh from Cassian. 

"You repulse me." Nest mumbled into his neck, but Cassian simply continued stroking his hands down her back. 

"I didn't hear that." Cassian kissed the top of her head again, settling his chin on her hair. 

Nesta smiled, her mind once again drifting back to the haze of sleep. 

With her wildfire around her, Nesta drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	33. Chapter 33- Goodmorning

Cassian awoke, but didnt move an inch. Everytime he had spent the night with Nesta, something bad happened in the morning. 

So he did not move, did not stir as to not break the spell the rising sun had cast. 

That sun shone purple and blue light onto Nesta's face, her eyelashes fluttering lightly. Her head lay on his shoulder, one arm tucked tightly into her chest and the other slung around Cassian's waist. 

His arm had fallen asleep under her head, but he didn't mind. Cassian brushed a hair away from Nesta's face, and realizing that her hair had fallen out of it's poinytale during the night, began to stroke his hand gently through the soft strands of honey. 

She didn't move, simply kept breathing deeply as Cassian brushed his hand through her hair. 

It was such a simple thing. Such a small thing. But it meant everything to him. Knowing this beautiful creature, the same one who spat her vemon at everyone she saw, trusted him enough not only to sleep in the same bed, but to cuddle up to him and allow him such intimacy. 

Every moment with Nesta, Cassian decided, was a gift. 

He tipped his head down slightly and kissed her forehead. Nesta hummed slightly, making Cassian's hands stop their combing. 

Nesta mumbled something as she scooted closer and dug her head into his neck. 

"What, Nes?" Cassian whispered, tracing a finger across her cheek.

In answer, Nesta wiggled her hand out from between them and moved his hand back to her hair. 

Cassian chuckled lightly as he again began to run his hand through her hair. Nesta took a deep breath and sighed, her body molding closer to his in the exhale. 

Cassian kissed the top of her head. "Morning, sweetheart."

Nesta grunted in response, light fingers drawing shapes on Cassian's back. 

"Do you want me to make you breakfast?" Nesta's breath was hot on his neck as she breathed. 

Nesta simply shook her head and kissed Cassian' neck gently. 

Cassian's hand stopped with his fingers buried in the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb gently pushing on the bottom of her chin. Nesta complied, lifting her head, but kept her sleepy eyes shut. 

"Where'd she go?" Cassian whispered, tilting Nesta's face pretending to inspect it. 

Kissing her cheek, he whispered onto her skin, "Not here.." 

Moving to her forehead, he kissed it and said again, "Not here.." 

"Oh, stop it." Nesta groaned, her hands on Cassian's cheeks as he kissed down her face. 

Cassian continued, though, murmuring as he went. Her skin was soft on his lips, her body warm under his hands. 

"Cas, don't-" Nesta began, but cut herself off with a light gasp as Cassian's lips brushed her earlobe. 

"Hmmm." Cassian mused, his hands on her waist pushing her over onto her back. Nesta kept her hands on either side of his face, but didn't protest as he continued his taunt. 

"Down here?" He nipped at her earlobe before ducking his head under his chin and kissing down her neck. 

Cassian couldn't help himself. Nesta was so perfect in the light of dawn, her little gasps and quiet wimpers as his teeth grazed her skin, the way she wrapped her legs around his waist as he settled himself between them- he could never get enough of this. 

Nesta's hands were cold on his skin as they trailed over his shoulderblades. It was a gentle touch, calming and centering from the desperation he felt welling up inside of him. Cassian lifted his head from her neck to find Nesta's eyes drinking in his wings. 

Cassian watched Nesta as he streched those wings to thier full length. She drank in the sight, eyes slowly taking in every inch of the dark expanse as if it were fine art. Cassian rested his head on her chest, that desperation settling into something calm, greatful. 

He listened to her heartbeat steady and strong. Cassian didn't have to look up to know Nesta was still gazing at the sight above her. He was blushing, if only a little. 

One of her fingers tapped the top of his head. Perking up, Cassian met Nesta's eye, her lips in a small tired smile. 

"There she is." Cassian whispered as he proped himself back up above her. One hand ran through her hair while the other supported his weight. 

Leaning down, Cassian kissed Nesta once, all gentleness and appreciation. 

Cassian whispered against her lips, "Good morning, sweetheart." 

He could feel the smile on her lips as she whispered back, "Good morning, Cassian."

Cassian kissed her again, and as Nesta wrapped her arms around his neck, he twisted his arms under her and around her waist. He lifted her up and got his knees underneath himself, and with a small squeal from her, set Nesta on his lap. Neither of them broke the kiss the whole time. 

Nesta pulled away first, swiping some of Cassian's hair from his face. 

"We have to get ready for training." She said, even as her hands traced from the sides of his face down his jaw and neck. 

Cassian settled his hands on her hips, his fingers iching to get under her shirt, to feel her skin, to hear those little gasps of hers turn to moans. But, he would always let her set the pace. Always let her dictate where and how fast they went. 

So he kissed along her jaw line as he said, "If you really want to get out of this bed, we can." 

Nesta tilted her head, allowing him access to the rest of her neck. He smiled against her skin as he continued. 

"But, I'm not sure that's what you want, Nes." Cassian squeezed her hips, drawing her down onto him as he spoke. 

The way Nesta breathed his name sent shivers down his spine. Cassian brought one hand from her hips and threaded it through her hair, tilting her head back down to kiss her. 

Instead of her lips, Cassian found himself kissing her finger as she planted it on his lips. 

Cassian wrapped his hand around her wrist. "That was mean." 

Nesta smiled, "I'm a mean person." 

"You're my mean person." Cassian kissed Nesta's palm as she groaned, pushing herself off him. 

Standing from the bed, Nesta said over her shoulder, "You're gross." 

Cassian flopped back down onto the bed. 

"I'm romantic." He said more to himself then to Nesta. 

She huffed, walking out of the bedroom. He heard her steps down the hallway and rested his eyes for one more moment before getting up to get dressed for the morning.

________________________________________________________________________________

Feyre lay in bed, staring at the celing. Rhys was asleep beside her, his even breath the only thing keeping her sane. 

It hurt. Everywhere. Verra had told her to expect pain in her abdomen, but the pain streched and tore her thighs, back, hips, even up her spine to her neck. She couldn't move, couldn't think. 

Rhys had done everything he could. Prepared the pain relief tonic Verra had perscribed, tended to the small incision, made her what food she could keep down. 

But when he had laid down beside her and pulled her against him, like he had done a thousand times before, she had nearly screamed out. 

Any touch was torture. When he had wrapped his arm around her waist, that small pressure had caused the pain to spike so badly Feyre emptied to contents of her stomach. To his credit, Rhys tried to hide how much that had hurt him. 

Both of them were hurting, now. Feyre physically couldn't move for the pain and Rhys had now idea how to comfort her. These were the lows. This was the trying time, thier earth shaking thunderous storm before the beautiful raimbow. 

Technically, even if through the furthest strech of the imagination, she had been pregnant. She had been with child. Rhys had lost a child as she did.

What did she do wrong? Had she eaten something? Slept wrong, too much or not enough? Was there something wrong with her womb? 

Would she ever be able to bear a child? 

A silent cold tear rolled down Feyre's temple. Verra had warned about the emotional toll this would take, how the next few weeks would be more difficult then she had ever been through. 

Feyre had been through so much. So much pain and suffering. She had seen so much pain and suffering. 

Because of that, she could say with certianty, this was the worst pain she had ever felt. 

Another wave of bone deep torment drug itself through her lower back and abdomen, and Feyre grimaced against it. The sun was rising, casting a golden light through thier room. A week before, Feyre would have awoken Rhys and they would have drank in the morning light with a hope for the future. 

Now, Feyre cried silently to herself as she gritted her teeth, Rhys still beside her. The sunlight mocked them, the light cheating them through false hope and the lie of a new day. 

Feyre did not know if she would even have the strength to speak, but she still moved her fingers to find Rhys's hand under the sheets. Warm and strong and soft, his hand molded to hers as his violet eyes opened into hers. 

He said nothing, simply reached over to brush a tear from her face. 

I love you. 

I love you, too. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Jaida had just finished breakfeast rounds and was making herself a cup of tea when a knock on the door startled her. 

Not that she hadn't expected Nesta to come back, but she didn't expect her to be alone. 

Yet, there she stood, in her training gear, her chin high. Neither female said anything, Jaida simply stood to the side and let Nesta in. 

Nesta went right to the fireplace, which Jaida had kept stoked since the night before. 

"Verra was with Iona this morning." Nesta said, looking into the flame. 

Jaida took a few steps closer. "Would you have trained with them if they were there?" 

"No." Nesta said, looking to Jaida and uncrossing her arms. "I want you to train me." 

Jaida nodded. It was addicting, losing yourself in magic like Nesta had the night before. Jaida understood and expected Nesta to show up. 

The witches always did. 

"Sit down, dove." Nesta went to sit on the floor, but Jaida stopped her. "On a chair." 

Nesta lowered herself into the large plush chair closest to the fire, and Jaida sat in the chair across from her. 

Oh, yes. Jaida was very excited for this. 

"You call yourself a witch." A statement, to which Nesta nodded. 

Jaida cocked her head. "Do you know what that means, dove?" 

"Someone who takes power that isn't thiers. I stole mine from the cauldron." 

Jadia nodded, rearranging her white skirts as she crossed her legs. Nesta watched as Jaida lifted her teacup to her mouth and took a sip. 

"Have you had any addictions in your life, Nesta?" She asked, cool and calm.

Nesta cocked her head, eyebrows bunched. Still, she answered. "Yes." 

"You will find, Nesta, that everything in life is about power." Jadia held out a second cup to Nesta, who shook her head in decline. 

"Addiction is the same. It's about the object or person substance having power over you. You give up power and control to the addiction." Jaida huffed a laugh. "The irony is most addictions make you feel powerful- drugs, sex- when in reality they simply allow you temporary control which is mistaken as power." 

Nesta was uneasy. Jaida smiled. 

"Magic is the one exeption to the rule. By giving into the power, the addiction of the magic, you become more powerful." 

The Illyrian stood, walking around her chair to the tea table and putting two sugar cubes into her tea. Nesta's eyes followed her. 

"To truly practice magic, Nesta, you must be the exception to the rule." Jaida sat back down. 

Nesta looked into the fire. Jaida said nothing, let Nesta sit with the words in the air. 

The eyes of the storm looked back to Jaida, a deep understand seeded there. 

"You're a witch." 

Jaida smiled. "The Witch of Windhaven." 

Nesta stared, looking the woman over as if seeing her for the first time. As if under her skin, Nesta could see the magic bubbling and waiting. 

"Though that title may not belong to me for much longer." Jaida said, offering Nesta the cup again. 

This time, Nesta accepted it, blowing on the steam across the top, the whisps of vapor streaming upward. 

"Marvelous work, dove. I could not have done better if I had killed him myself." 

Nesta looked up from her tea, her eyes wide. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

Jadia laughed, light and kind. "Don't be foolish." She winked. "The eyelids were a nice touch." 

Though the wildcat across from her was ready to pounce, Nesta almost smiled. 

"He kept closing his eyes. That just wouldn't do." Nesta took a sip of her tea. 

This Fae before her, though untried and raw around the edges, had power like nothing Jaida had ever felt before. A strength and presence that was as forboding as it was tempting, power radiating off her like a beacon. 

She could change everything. And she knew it, too. 

So why didn't she? 

"You are stifled. Restrained. What holds you back, dove?" Jaida cooed, her eyes gentle. 

Nesta shook her head. "I don't know." 

"Hmm." Jaida pondered. "Let's start with something simple then."

Nesta said nothing. Jaida was beginning to notice if Nesta was confused, she didn't speak. The more she learned about the eldest Archeron the more excited she was to work with her. 

"The Opals in your pocket. They act as your siphons, correct?" 

The female blinked. "How did you know-" 

"Unimportant. Take them out." 

Though her movements were slow and calculated, Nesta pulled from her pocket her set of Dragons Breath Opals. 

Jadia nodded. "Take them from the jewlery. It's fluff, decoration. A nice way of presenting something deadly." 

"Useless." Nesta spoke quietly as she began pulling the metal back with her fingernail to remove the opals from the jewlery. 

"Exactly." Jaida stood, stoking the fire. The curtains were drawn, so the daylight did not shine through the windows. Only the fire lit the small living room. 

After a few moments, Nesta had gotten the opals out. The 5 stones lay in her hand, practically glowing in the dark of the room. 

"Good. Now, mold them into one opal." 

Nesta looked up. "That's impossible." 

"You've already given up." Jaida shook her head. "Unbecoming for a young witch." 

Nesta grunted, looking down at the stones. Akwardly, she flashed power and shoved the stones together. After a few more attempts, Jadia stood. 

"I'm going to go about my duties for the day." Jaida put a hand on Nesta's shoulder as she walked past toward the door. 

"Come find me when you're done, dove." 

Jadia faintly heard Nesta's reply as she left the cabin. Smiling to herself, Jaida locked the door from the outside, and headed toward the tents. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Amren stared at Lori over a once warm plate of food. The two females had a long and twisted history. 

Then again Amren had started a twisted history with many people. 

Azriel had finally left the room moments before after debating suspects and motives and evidence and alibis for hours. 

Now that the spymaster had left, though, there was no need for the two females to so any further discussion. 

They both knew who did it. 

Lori broke the silence. "She won't stop." 

Amren nodded. "She has a taste for it now, she may never stop." 

"She's not a threat. She's doing it for good." Lori took a sip from her pint. 

"For now. I know her, Lori." Amren's eyes were daggers over the table. 

"So do I." Lori spat, a challenge Amren refused to answer. 

Instead, the Ancient One calmly answered, "What's her favorite color?" 

Lori lifted an eyebrow. "Dark forest green, like a pine tree at dusk." 

Amren shifted, but said nothing. 

"Listen, I don't want to fight." Lori stood, reaching more of the papers infront of her. Shuffling through them, Lori seemed to have found what she was looking for and crossed the space to Amren. 

"But I know that these women will suffer if we don't pin this on someone else." 

Lori showed Amren an alphabetical list of all the Illyrian women in Windhaven. Kept for Mother knows why, the list had every female born for the last three generations. 

"Everyone I love is on this list. I don't want to fight. But I will do what I have to do to keep them safe." Lori held the packet up to her eyes, squinting to find the names she searched for. 

Amren took a deep drink from her wineglass. Lori knew she didn't drink blood anymore, but somehow the wineglass aesthetic never quite left the Ancient One. 

"Who do you suggest?" Her voice was cool, but a dangerously taunting undercurrent told Lori Amren would have far to much fun framing someone for Terthals murder. 

"Any other male who was in the Pit that night. They won't have an alibi without incriminating themselves further." Lori sat in the chair next to Amren, thoughts a thousand miles an hour. 

"We need to be strategic. We can let thi just be anyone, or we can really set an example." Amren retorted. 

A malicious laugh escaped Lori. "Because Nesta didn't set enough of an example?" 

Amren dared to smirk at that. "She never fails to make a statment." 

Lori perked up at that, eyes suddenly bright and devilish. 

"I know the perfect person."


	34. Chapter 34- Fog of Madness

Iona blinked back hot heavy tears as she lay face down on the table.

Today was the beginning of her second week in the damp room carved into the mountain and her first day of rehabilitation the Verra.

Verra had been nothing but kind, nothing but soft smiles and kind words as they began this process an hour and a half ago. But there was none of that kindness now.

"Come on Iona. I just need five more. Five more lifts." Thier soft voice betrayed the torture they were giving. 

Iona resisted the urge to scream. Five more. 

The muscles in her back raged against her, her shoulder blades unacustom to the weight and the pressure, her neck straining against the skeletal frame of her wings as she did as Verra asked. 

Stretching her wings out as far as they could go, Iona lifted once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Her whole body was on fire. She resisted the urge to ask Verra to cut her wings off completely. Anything to end of this torture. But Verra would say no.

Iona knew that because she had asked Verra before.

Four.

Five. 

"Great job, Iona. I'm going to apply a soothing gel now. You'll feel cool tingle and then you should feel numbness. You're going to ache horribly tomorrow, but know that means we made progress."

Iona said nothing, simply grated her teeth as her lungs strained to breathe.

"Iona?"

Again, the Illyrian said nothing as the healer's hands glided gently along her back. The cooling sensation felt like the Mother herself was kissing Iona's back. The numbness started to settle down her spine, any Iona sighed. 

"Iona? Iona, are you all right?" 

Iona found her mouth was finallly ready to respond, to speak again. 

"I'm all right."

After a long silence and Verra's gracious and talented hands gliding along her back, Iona spoke again.

"That was a lot harder than I thought it would be."

Verra's laugh fluttered through the air. "At first, it will only get harder, Iona."

Iona felt a twinge of fear at the thought of anything being harder than what she had just experienced. 

"But," Verra began massaging out the knots in Iona's shoulder blades- which Iona thanked the Mother for. 

"After about the third or fourth time, you will suddenly find that you can lift them higher and higher, hold them in the air for longer, and you'll find pain is secondary progress."

Iona groaned slightly as Verra worked particularly difficult knot in her shoulder. 

"Thank you, Verra." Iona didn't need to lift her head or turn her neck from the table to know the Verra was smiling. 

"You're an easy patient. Quiet, kind." As the numbness spread over her, back Iona felt Verra begin to re-wrap her wings and the wounds at the base of them.

"Many men who came from battle with wing injuries wouldn't even let me touch them. Or if I did they would never agree to the proper rehabilitation practices. Now they walk around ashamed of a wingspan I could've fixed."

Iona laughed to herself, "Not that any of them had a very impressive wingspan to begin with."

Verra laughed again, the sound bringing a rosy color to Iona's cheeks. 

"Well, Iona," Verra said as they finished one wing and moved to the other, "wingspan has never been something I've been interested in." 

Iona stilled, listening closely Verra's words. 

"You're saying wingspan does it matter to you?" 

Verra was cautious with their words. 

"No, I'm saying wing span has never been something that is interested in me."

Iona pursed her lips. "What about my wingspan?"

Verra chuckled, the glitter of the laugh cutting through the tension of the room. 

"Iona, you know your wingspan has always interested me."

Though she had just been grimacing on the verge of tears moments before, a smile crept it's way over Iona's face. She was glad her face was hidden in the table. 

"Iona?"

"Verra?" 

"What kind of flower would you like in your room?"

Iona did not hesitate. "The blue poppies that grow in front of my father's house. They're the only ones that are growing this time of year anyway."

Verra hummed as she finished the bandages. 

"Then I will be right back with some blue poppies. I'll bring your dad too." 

Verra passed by the table close enough for Iona to reach out her hand and grasp their fingers. 

Their fingers were soft, gentle unlike her own. Her eyes were kind and gentle as they always were as she knelt down to be face-to-face with Iona.

Jana swallowed. 

"I mean it. Thank you."

The smile that blossomed over their soft pink lips was breathtaking. Iona blinked as her heart skipped a beat.

"Iona, get some rest. I'll be back in a bit." 

Squeezing her hand once, Verra stood and left Iona's room, a gentle smile cast over thier shoulder at the door. 

Iona forgot all about the pain of the morning, forgot that tomorrow she'd have to go through it all again, forgot that's the only reason she wasn't rolling in pain was because of the numbing at her back. She simply remembered Verra's smile and her laughter as she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

____________________________________________________________________________

Cassian was the one responsible for gathering the group of men who would be the jury of Terthal's murder.

Illyrians were not barbarians. Especially with the unrest, Rhys made sure there was a justice system of sorts when things like this happened. And they didn't happen often, but when they did, Cassian had to take care of it.

There was also a do-not-choose list of males who were particularly problematic. Cassian kept that list in his pocket as he walked.

Not that he thought any Illyrian was more trustworthy than the others, but he knew that there was something going on he did not know about. And he didn't know who to trust. 

Winding his way through the tents, he found Lori sitting with Carina waround a half lit fire. As he approached, Carina gave out a low whistle.

"I swear, General," she said scrunching her face and eyeing him. "You grow an inch taller and 2 inches wider every time I see you."

Cassian smiled, the old woman never failing to warm his heart. Lori laughed, a cold short sound. 

"He is a growing boy, isn't he Carina?" The older Illyrian nodded, drawing out the sound of mhmmm as Cassian sat down next to them.

"I didn't mean interrupt anything ladies, but if it's all right with you, Carina I'd like to borrow Lori." 

Carina took a sip of her soup, slurping loudly. 

"You can do anything you want general. As long as you ask nicely."

Cassian shook his head, smiling like a cat. "You call me when this fire dies and you get cold, Carina." 

Carina lifted her brows and shook her head. "You know I would take you up on that offer, but now you got that hellcat, Cassian. She'd have my head- you know she would." 

Cassian stood, laughing, as Lori rose and followed suit. 

"Maybe I'll just bring her along." Cassian said, winking down at Carina.

The female tilted her head back and laughed a cackle that paralleled the crackling of the fire. 

"You are a scoundrel, Cassian." She said through her laughter. 

They nodded their goodbyes and Lori followed Cassian through the tents and back into town. They said nothing as they crossed the main square heading toward the tavern.

To his surprise, the tavern was nearly empty when they open to the large oak doors.

The doors groaned on their hinges and Lori entered first. Devlon was the only person in the entire tavern, although at the sight of Lori he quickly chugged his pint at the bar. Lori was all venom as Devlon passed by them on the way out. 

Cassian wanted to ask, but the look on Lori's face stopped him. 

Cassian had learned many things over the last few weeks and one of those was not to ask questions of Lori. 

They sat at a booth, dimly lit near the door. 

A server came over, a kind young female named Jala. Her dark blue headscarf matched the blue apron she wore. 

Her father owned and operated the tavern, so she was stuck with the job of waitress and wench. She was young- literally only 15. But she was resilient, and something told Cassian Lori came here enough that the young Illyrian would have a spark just like Lori.

"What can I get you to two?" Jala wiped her hands on her apron as Lori responded. 

"Give me that broth your brother makes, the bone broth?"

Jala simply nodded. "Your usual to drink?"

Lori nodded, offering a small smile. 

Jala turned her attention to Cassian. "And for you, general?" 

Cassian ordered the same thing, whatever bone broth Lori was speaking of already settling the coldness in his bones.

"I'll be right out with that."Lori nodded at the girl, Cassian noting the dagger she had tucked into the belt of her apron. 

"That's one of your daggers, isn't it?"

Laurie nodded "Her family offers her no protection. Working this job is one of the most dangerous things a young female can do in Windhaven. She needed it more than I did."

Cassian drew his eyebrows together and rested his elbows against the table. 

"I don't know about most dangerous." He remarked, careful of his words.

Lori stilled and gave him a sharp look. "What, you think your job is harder? More dangerous?"

Cassian stifled a laugh, sitting up straighter. "Yes, Lori, I do think being the Commanding General of the entire Illyrian army is a little bit more dangerous than being a waitress."

Lori lifted her eyebrows giving a slight hmm and leaning back against her chair. 

"Tell me then, Cassian, when was the last time you had to fight off a drunken man who is three times your size?" 

"OK, Lori that's not-"

Lori put up a finger and continued. "Or when was the last time your father let strangers in a bar feel you up for tips?" 

Cassian remain silent. 

But Lori was not finished, "How many times have you been followed home by a predator or dragged into a dark alley at the edge of town? You have centuries of training. She's a 15 year old girl trying her best."

Cassian held up his hands sign of defeat. "I get your point, Lori. I get your point."

Lori however persistent. "No, Cassian, I don't think you do. We aren't at war anymore. You are not actively putting your life on the line every single day. But do you know who is? Jala. Rosie. Verra. I know why you came to talk to me today." 

Cassian cocked his head, feeling small in Lauries gaze.. 

"I don't know who to trust to be on the jury for the Terthal case. I don't know who could be in on it, I don't know who's gonna be honest about it." Cassian again threw his hands up. "I don't know who to put on the jury." 

"That's because none of the men are trustworthy. You know that Cassian. That's why you came to me."

Cassian swallowed his irritation, knowing that Laurie was completely right. None of the men were trustworthy, none of the Illyrian showing any kind of unmotivated honesty.

Lori interrupted his thoughts. "Kason, the blacksmith. Judea, one of your soldiers." 

Lori ratted off a few more names, totaling six males to put on the case. Cassian nodded, but took a deep breath.

"That's only six. We need a jury of seven." 

Lori nodded. "Emerie. The seamstress." 

Cassian could see from his vantage point across from Lori that Jala was approaching with a tray in her hands. Still Lori did not take her eyes off Cassian as Jala sat down the soup in front of them.

"Can I do anything else for either of you?" Jala asked, hands tucked in the pockets of her apron. 

Cassian answered, aforced smile gracing his face.

"No, Jala, that will be all. Thanks." 

Jala nodded and left the table, the gentle swishing of her skirts and the flicking of the fire the only sound.

Cassian looked back to Lori. "No."

Lori answered, her dark eyes seeming to dance in the fire light. "Why not?"

Cassian scrubbed his hands over his face, a deep sigh echoing out of his chest. 

"Now is not the time to make a political statement by putting a female on the jury, Lori. If I'm going to be frank with you, I just want this trial to be over without any hiccups."

Lori took a deep sip of her drink, a pint of something that did nothing to faze the daggers in her gaze. "No, I completely understand."

She took a sip of her broth, nodding slowly as she swallowed it down her throat.

"So will the next gruesome high-profile murder be the right time to start putting your money where your mouth is, general? Or the one after that?"

Cassian swallowed the anger rising in his throat, swallowed the snarky response and the blatant disrespect. 

"It is not like that, Lori and you know it."

"No, it is like that, Cassian. I'm sorry if including a female on the jury is a 'hiccup' for you, but the for the rest of Windhaven it would represent the true application of all of Rhys's pretty words. Because I'm going to be frank with you, Cassian when no one else will." 

Lori seemed calm and serene, but Cassian could feel himself building to explode. 

The notion that he was intentionally exempting females from the jury was ludicrous. He supposed the thought didn't cross his mind to put a female on the jury, but that is because it had never been done before. Every single murder trial in Windhaven or Ironcrest had been made up of a jury of seven men deciding the outcome. Why was Laurie pushing for this one case, this one female, at the most inopportune time?

"Lori," Cassian rasped, that edge in his voice forigen to even himself, "I am in no way trying to purposefully keep a woman of the jury. That being said-"

Cassian took a deep breath, controlling the build up inside of him. 

"The Terthal case is high profile and already stirring unrest within the Illyrians. Unrest that we cannot afford to give fuel too."

Lori nodded, and Cassian could not tell if it was sarcasm or not. But she did seem to be genuinely listening, so he continued.

"Putting a woman on this jury will seem desperate and forced, and you know none of the Illyrians will trust the outcome."

"Males."

Cassian cocked his head. "What?"

Lori took another sip of whatever was in the cup. "None of the males will trust the outcome."

Cassian scrunched his brows together and his eyes flickered about searching for the meaning of Lori's words. 

"Yes?"

Lori shrugged her shoulders. "With a woman on the jury, all of the Illyrian females will trust the outcome of this case."

Lori took another sip of her broth, all cool all casual. "And, in case you forgot, the females outnumber the males."

Cassian shook his head. "I don't understand what you're saying." 

"Well, you're suggesting that the outcome of the case will enrage the males to the point where they might do something drastic. I highly doubt any of them have the balls to do that, quite frankly, and even if they did, the females outnumber them."

Cassian sipped the soup is Lori continued, her brilliant mind unfolding before him like a tapestry. 

"You've been busy in the mornings, doing Mother knows what, but you forget."

Lori looked at him, through him, with a deathly stillness Cassian knew all too well.

"We have an army, Cassian. The females have an army. A well-trained, well regulated, army prepared to do what we need them to do."

Cassian was still, all caution, tiptoeing, as he spoke his next words.

"Is that a threat, Lori?"

Lori, her skin glowing like obsidian in the candlelight, smiled gently.

"No, general. It is a reminder. " 

Lori stood, taking a few coins out of her coin purse and setting them on the table. 

Not bothering to look back down at Cassian, she said "Lunch is on me. I'll go tell Emerie that she's on the jury. If you want to be the one to break the news to her that she's not be my guest, but as you know she is a very stubborn woman."

Lori place your hand on top of Cassian's she leaned down and whispered, "So good luck."

Lori straightened back up, tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, and walked out of the tavern.

Cassian let out a shuttering breath. 

He was the commanding general of all Illyrian forces. Should he let her talk to him like that? It was not for her to decide who was on jury. Rhys had given him that task-not Lori. But, she was also absolutely right and everything that she had said. They needed to make a statement, regarding the females rights in Windhaven. There was not a better opportunity than this trial. 

Cassian shifted uneasily in his seat as he watch the steam rise from his broth before him. 

What Lori had spoken of, though, was Civil War.

What would Lori do if the males didn't except the outcome of the trial? Unleash the rage of the Illyrian women upon them? That would end bloodshed. Unnecessary losses. 

And that was a danger, a war the Cassian could not fight. 

Cassian lifted a pint to his lips and drank a deep gulp. 

Not even seconds later the sting hit his tongue and he nearly choked out his drink. He somehow managed to keep it in his mouth and swallow it down, but not without the claws of the liquor digging into his throat. 

Of course, right as he choked on the on the drink, Jala had to come by. She stood before the table taking out a handkerchief and setting it before him on the table. 

"She always orders really strong drink."

Cassian nodded, clearing his throat several times before he could speak.

"That's her usual?" 

Jala laughed. "I swear to you, the females drink stronger liquors here than males do."

Cassian caught it then, the darkness behind Jenny's eyes. It was something mirrored in his own. He thought that the heaviness with which she carried herself was unfair, something that no teenager should have to bear. Not alone anyway. 

So, Cassian gestured with a hand across the table from him, where Lori's food and drinks sat vacant. 

"Have you eaten yet, Jala?" 

Jala shook her head but politely took a step back from the table. "I'm on shift. I can't sit down while I'm on shift."

Cassian noted how her eyes glanced back behind the counter, back toward the male who ran the bar.

"You can't sit down with me on shift? Or you can't sit down at all?"

Jennys eyes suddenly turned stormy. Her shoulders tightened and she fiddle nervously with the end of her apron.

She said quietly, "I can't sit down at all."

Cassian looked for the male at the bar past Jala, and saw that he watched the two of them with a ferocity. He eyed Cassian as if he were a foreign body. 

Still, Cassian stuck his hand out across the table from himself again.

"As commander, as a general, I'm telling you to sit down and eat." He said sternly enough that the male behind the bar turned away. Jala pulled back, but Cassian offered her a small smile and a wink.

Jala, small and kind and quiet Jala, sat.

And there, at a booth in the back of the tavern, Cassian and Jala had lunch. 

They spoke of terribly macabre things, Jala of her experiences with males at the bar, Cassian of his experiences at war. He was surprised that nothing he said shocked or disgusted her. It was as if she had fought a war of her own. From the stories she told him, Cassian realized she had.

________________________________________________________________________

Nesta had been working all day. 

Jadia had locked the door when she left, so she had no choice but to stay and work. 

Nesta thought it would be easy, putting all of the opals together. 

She could not have been more wrong. 

They stretched and groaned and broke and flashed and shattered more times than she could count. Too much pressure and the stone would completely shatter. Too little pressure and nothing would happen. 

Harder still, her magic wasn't helping, as trying to break down one stone to mold another to it was not something she thought she'd ever use her magic for. 

But finally, after working all day like a sculpture with wet clay, Nesta had done it. 

All five of the dragons breath opals were now shaped and formed and connected into one stone. It was huge, about the size of her head. 

The opals did not react to her magic like a regular stone would. They malformed and shrunk and expanded- but yet here she was sitting on the floor in front of the fire with the dragons breath opal the size of her head sitting in her lap. 

She watch the sunset in between the dark curtains, the purples and gold of the sky reflecting the purples and gold of the stone. 

Jaida will be back anytime now. Until then Nesta decided she would take a moment for herself to relax. And to breathe. And to work the damn kink in her neck. 

After she was done finishing the stone, she had practiced on the fire. Controlling the logs and how fast they burned. Nesta at one point was so sure of her capabilities that she took one finger and stuck it on the log. By being able to control the rate of decay and and what was decayed or burned, her hand was completely unscathed. 

Nesta was realizing her magic could do more than she ever dreamed. The possibilities were endless.

Not once did Nesta let herself fall into the fever dream of her magic. She let herself sink to the very bottom, hit the floor of the well of magic inside of her, but she did not let it control her. 

She had thought about with Jaida said. As a witch, she stole her magic. She was in control of what she took and therefore in control of how much it took from her. 

Nesta found herself regretting not coming to Jaida sooner. She learned more in this short day than she had ever learned when she was practicing with Verra. And besides, Verra was busy with Iona.

Iona.

Nesta should go check on Iona.

Nesta heard a clicking noise as the door was unlocked and the sweet smell of lilac filled the space. 

Jaida was back.

"You have some thing amazing to show me I trust?"The white clad female cooed as she entered her cabin.

Nesta stood, lifting that heavy stone with her. It had to weigh 20 pounds. She heaved as she set it up on the tea table as Jaida approached.

Jaida stopped dead at the mouth of the living room. Her eyes were glued to the stone on the table.

"Nesta, what is that?"

Nesta realized her throat was a bit scratchy as she hadn't spoken all day. 

"The opals. I molded the opals together like you told me too." 

Jaida shook her head. "Nesta, my dove."

Jaida's eyes remained glued to the stone as she slowly entered the room and crossed to Nesta.

She stood right next to Nesta, still staring at the stone. 

Nesta was uneasy. Jaida had proved herself to be crafty, brilliant even to hide her witchcraft from the entirety of the males for this long. And brilliant meant dangerous. 

"Jaida? Is everything all right? "

Jaida simply closed her mouth and knelt down in front of the table with opal on it. Very slowly Jaida reached out her hand and hovered it just above the opal.

"I did just as you asked, Jaida." Nesta back took one step back. 

Jaida started to shake her head back-and-forth. 

"It was a sysphean task." 

Nesta creased her brows, her legs a bit shaky from sitting for so long and from Jaida's odd behavior. 

"A what?" Nesta took another step back and her calf ran into the edge of the chair. 

Nesta finally remembered from the night before, Jaida throwing the Witches Excutioner Blade under that chair to hide it from Cassian. 

Did she dare reach down to pick it up now? 

"A sysphean task- An impossible task, a wild goose chase, meant to teach you a lesson." 

Jaida turned to face Nesta, looking her in the eyes once more. Nesta had never seen been afraid of Jaida. 

But it was evident in this moment that Jaida was afraid of Nesta.

"You weren't supposed to be able to do it. It's impossible to alter a Dragon's Breath Opal with magic." 

Nesta stopped breathing. 

What kind of magic had she stolen? What had she taken from the Cauldron that was so unnatural, so wrong that it defied the laws of magic? Defied the laws of nature? 

Nesta did not know what to say. So she simply said, "I did it." 

Jaida shook her head, as if in awe of Nesta before her. 

Standing, straightening her hair back and brushing out her white skirts Jaida crossed nesta. 

Nesta was not afraid.

Jaida placed one hand on either side of Nesta's face, closing her eyes.

"Nesta, I need you to trust me now, can you do that for me?" 

Nesta, a good four inches taller than Jaida, looked down at the female before her. 

Her dark hair was scattered over her shoulders, loose from the braid it had been in that morning. The bottom of her skirts were dirty, as if she had been in mud or dirt. She may not have looked at, but Jaida was old and wise. The youth of her face did not fool Nesta. The female before her was a female of time, a female of experience that Nesta would only understand after centuries. 

And still, Nesta was not afraid. 

So, she nodded. "I do." 

Jaida nodded lightly, her thumbs stroking gently against Nesta's cheeks.

"Listen to me carefully, then. You need to go to the creek that you were in yesterday morning." 

Nesta almost opened her mouth to ask how Jaida knew, but thought better of it as Jaida continued. 

"Go to the creek, wash the Opal in the water. When you are finished, you need to break the Opal into as many pieces as you can with your magic."

Nesta blinked.

"Are you listening, dove?"

Nesta was confused. She felt confused more than she felt anything these days it seemed. But still she was not afraid and she nodded.

"This is very important, Nesta Archeron. After ths stone is shattered, you will crave carnage." 

The female shook her head. "You know how those stones are created. You've just spent the whole day pouring your magic into something born of such destruction.." 

Nesta let the words sink in. She had been a fool. She should have known. It was so simple, when looking at the beautiful gem, to forget that it was born from bloodshed. 

All the life the stones stole, all the devestation they took to create, and Nesta had centralized all that power into one stone. 

She was an ignorant fool. 

"That power release will drive you mad if you let it, dove, so do not let it."

All Nesta could do was nod. 

"Bury the bits of the opals in the river, let them be washed away, and forget you ever had them. I will personally see to it you get different siphons and I will deal with your puppy." Jaida's breath was uneven. 

Nesta realized Jaida was holding her cheeks to wipe the tears from her face. Nesta was crying. 

She brought a hand up, placing a finger on her cheek. A warm wet tear streamed down her finger. 

"I know, dove, I know. It's already begenning. I should have known, I shouldn't have left you." 

Jaida shook her head, brushing back Nesta's tears as Nesta looked to the opal past Jaida's head. 

Cassian had told her the opals would help her. They would keep the insanity away, keep the madness, make her whole. 

He had lied. 

And now they were even. 

Nesta gripped Jaida's wrists, throwing the female's hands off her face. 

Dropping to her knees, Nesta swiped the Witches Excutioner Blade- her blade- out from under the chair. 

"Nesta, don't let it do this to you." Jaida tried to palce a hand on her shoulder, but Nesta shrugged her off. 

"I'm going to the river, like you said." Nesta retorted, sheathing the blade at her back and stepping around Jaida to reach the stone. 

Jaida's grip was iron around Nesta's wrist was Nesta placed a hand on the opal.

"Set the intention. Wash and break the stone. Bury it. Return." Jaida spoke loudly, clearly. 

Nesta said nothing, simply stared at the witch before her. 

"Do you understand me, dove?" A softer tone, meant to charm Nesta into obedience. 

Nesta would not forget.

"Yes, I understand." Nesta said, relishing the freedom as Jaida's grip left her wrist. 

The Witch of Windhaven nodded at Nesta Archeron. 

"Then go."


	35. Chapter 35- A God

Cassian watched Nesta leave Jaida's cabin. 

It was clear from the moment the hood of her cloak was blown back by the wind that something was seriously amiss. 

She was pale, her face too sharp, her gait too static. Nesta walked quickly toward the tents, noting no one's presence. 

Cassian now had a choice. 

Go after Nesta, or burn Jaida alive. 

Jaida had been screwing with Nesta for longer then Cassian knew, that much was apparent. But this was Jaida. He knew her, trusted her. 

Trusted. 

She had lied to him about Nesta before. Whatever had happened, Cassian would find out from Nesta. 

It was obvious he couldn't trust Jaida when it came to Nesta. He would come back for her later. 

Cassian tucked his wings in tight, ducked his head down, pulling his hair out of the bun so it fell around his face, and began to follow Nesta. 

______________________

Nesta's mind was clear and quiet as she made her way through the tents. Illyrians nodded to her, many of them faces she recognized, but she only pulled her hood up and kept her eyes down. 

Luckily for her, people had come to expect cruel weird behavior from her, so no one would notice a difference. 

But Nesta did. 

The blade swinging at her side, the stone in her satchel- the echoed drum of silence through her ears. 

She had worked tirelessly, all day to create this masterpeice of power she carried with her.

This one stone would have taken thousands of deaths, so much destruction to create. 

And Nesta had forged it with her bare hands. 

Power, Nesta was realizing, was not a curse. This power was a living being, walking with her, speaking to her, and breathing it in was a gift.

Nesta was a wraith, the dark cloak and creaking leathers gliding her through the people and tents and happiness that she didn't belong to. 

It was slow motion, Illyrians laughed around her, the embers of fire drifting through the air. She dared to look, to watch this life around her. 

She was greeted with a sea of crinkled eyes, orange flame, kind words. She lifted her gaze, stopping for only a moment to drink it in. 

Life moved around her, as if she were a ghost. Barking laughter, crackling fires, the soup for dinner, the rushing wind. 

It ripped her hood down and whipped her hair. It whispered to her, cooed and charmed her. 

Turn around. 

Nesta obeyed. 

The tents shook with that wind as Nesta slowly turned, eyes glazing across the colors of the life before her. The wind now blew at her back, throwing her hair into her face. 

The eyes of chocolate and honey watched her from afar. 

He wasn't close, wasn't imposing on her, but he was here. 

Her mate stood still amung the tents, the people- just as she did. Cassian wasn't hiding, wasn't trying to hide. He would never hide from her.

Cassian was a hero. A decorated General, lap dog to the mightiest High Fae in history, oft compared to the Illyrian Warrior God Enalius. Nesta knew how all of them saw Cassian. 

Cassian was a savior, a hero, a warrior. 

But this world was full of saviors. 

What this world needed was more monsters. 

Nesta turned, wrenching her hood back up, and continued her pace through the tents and to the outskirts of Windhaven. 

_______________________________________________________

Cassian stood and watched as Nesta turned away from him and leave.

As she always did. 

No matter how much of his soul he offered her, no matter what pretty words he spoke, Nesta Archeron always left in the end. 

He had thought this was the next world, that time they could finally have. 

Now he realized that this was simply another layer of Hel, another lifetime where he couldn't have her. 

Life moved around him, as if he were a ghost. Barking laughter, crackling fires, the soup for dinner, the rushing wind. 

All of it. He wanted to share all of it with her. 

As Cassian stood there, staring at the blank space where his mate had been, he wondered when he would be enough. When offering up his heart, his life on a silver platter would be good enough. 

Though it hurt, though he hated himself for it, Cassian knew he would wait, like a damn child on his knees, until the day he finally was enough for Nesta. 

Today was obviously not that day. 

____________________________________________________________________

He wouldn't follow her. Nesta knew it. 

Lies. All of it- the night before, the stolen kisses, the smiles- it had all been lies and wasted time. 

She was never meant to be loved. She was fire, anything near her would burn with her. 

So she kept walking. 

The tents were right on the outskirts of camp, right near the edge of the forest. Though it was mid afternoon, the sun was already beginning to sink, the sky changing overhead by the minute. 

The shadows of the trees streched before her like outstreched arms as she entered the forest, double checking to make sure no one had followed her. 

The dead plants coiled on the forest floor were like fingers that grabbed at her cloak. If she had been wearing a dress, the bottom would have been torn to shreds. She chose her steps carefully, as to not make too much sound. Although everyone would like to think her inept, she was actually getting quite good at traversing the forest undetected. If you simply watched your step and noted your surroundings, it was easy. 

Nesta found herself nearing the opening of the plateau, that cliffs edge catching the last rays of the sun. 

If she had wings, Nesta would have ran off the edge and flown away, leaving males with kind eyes and heros behind.

But, alas, she was throughouly grounded. 

Nesta skirted to the edge of the cliff, where the tree line stopped. There down the side was the twisted roots of trees, exposed from the side. Just like they had been last time. 

Nesta clambered down, the weight of the stone making it more difficult. Going down was more difficult then going up, as she couldn't quite see where the next foothold was when she lowered herself. Her arms burned and her thighs screamed, but Nesta finally found the bottom. 

And there, right next to the cliffside, was the river. 

The water rushed, the golden light gleaming off the flowing water. It sparkled like diamonds, the white caps of the rapids like perfect opals. 

Nesta was not afraid of this water. No, this water called to her. Called to the stone in her satchel, called to the dark magic inside of her. 

The witch did not remember or care about Jaida's warnings as she knelt down at the riverbank. 

Nesta removed her cloak, setting it beside her. The cold bit at her face, entwining around her body. But Nesta did not shiver, was not afraid of that cold, as she lifted the flap to reveal the stone.

It glew faintly in the dying sunlight, the vivid purples and the vibrant oranges smiling up at her. 

Nesta smiled back. 

It was singing to her, weaving itself through her soul. 

She had created this. Had created the dragon's breath opals that were found after she decapitated the King. Had changed the normal opals into dragon's breath with a single expulsion of power. 

Nesta had brought all that raw Cauldron stolen power together to create the impossible. 

Was there a limit? Was there anything she wasn't capable of? 

Nesta brought a lick of that beautiful white hot power to her fingertips. 

She stared. 

It was alive, a being all itself. This magic, this darkness, this power was the only thing in the world that undertood. 

When she stole it from the cauldron, she had only willed herself to take. Take as much as she could, avenge what the King and Cauldron had done. 

Nesta had never intended to become a witch. Never intended to become a monster. 

Maybe monster wasn't quiet the right word. 

Maybe she was a god. 

The magic at her fingers whirled around her hand, up to her wrist. Nesta brought the glove of magic to her other hand, and with the power of death, picked up the stone. 

It sang in her presence, with her attention. She could see her reflection on the smooth surface. 

She was crying. Tears streamed down her face. 

The world was dark in the reflection of the stone. Like a storm hanging overhead. Like an omen. 

Nesta couldn't look away. 

The rain began to pour down, the image of herself soaked in the stone. A lightning flash illuminated a sillouhette behind her. 

Nesta jumped, but still could not bring herself to look away. 

Nesta watched as the image in her reflection was ripped away by the figure, and she instantly realized what she was watching. 

Tomas Mandray shoved Nesta to the ground, everything blurred by rain and mud. But as Tomas forced himself ontop of her, Nesta looked closer within the stone. Something was extended from the figure's back. 

No, the figure was not Tomas. 

Holding both of her hands above her head as she screamed for help, Cassian shoved a handfull of mud down Nesta's throat. Nesta remembered what that tasted like, how she couldn't breath through the dirt and shit and grass. 

Cassian was the embodiment of rage as he held Nesta down, one of his hands now free and ripping at her dress. 

Nesta could not look away as the night replayed out before her in the reflection of the stone. 

Finally, mercifully, the image faded. 

Nesta stared, but nothing but her reflection stared back. 

She was shaking, but not with the cold. 

She did not process what she had just watched. Did not want to. Jaida told her the stone would drive her mad. That it was already starting to. 

But Nesta did not know if she could ever look Cassian in the face again after what she just watched. 

Nesta turned away from the river and vomited on the dying grass. 

Jadia had told her to wash it. Set the intention. To treat the stone like it deserved any shred of respect. 

But Nesta felt no respect for this thing before her. It did not hold power. Nesta had power. The power, that darkness, that twisted wicked mind inside was Nesta's. 

Wiping her mouth, Nesta turned, dropping the stone in the river. 

The Witches Excutiner Blade hissed as Nesta withdrew it from the scabbard. The blade glinted in the last lights of the day, the golds and greys refracting off the blade like candlelight. 

The white magic still gloved Nesta's hands, and Nesta allowed that magic onto the blade. Into the blade, seeping over and through and around each curve and crack and crevace. The blade was white hot, the magic alive and moving with the curve of the blade.

Raising the sword, Nesta thrust it into the river, a cry bellowing out of her throat. 

The tip of the blade cracked the opal, and the entire stone exploded in a fury of shards. White light was all around her, but Nesta did not close her eyes. 

This was her magic. 

This was her destiny, and she would not run from it. 

Nesta let them hit her, not wincing at the tiny scrapes as the sharp edges of the stone cut her skin. Nesta let the magic they left sink into her soul. 

And just like the cauldron, Nesta willed her very being to take. Take everything. 

So it did. 

Like a moth to the flame, that white magic shot for her, curling around her and seeping into her skin. 

More. 

Nesta bared her teeth and cried out as the magic once again bound itself to her soul. 

Death. 

I've missed you, spitfire.

The shards of the opal lay scattered around her where she kneel. Nesta took a deep breath before opening her eyes. 

The first thing she saw was the reflection of herself in the blade, the magic that surrounded it now sucked back inside of herself. 

Nesta's eyes were glowing pure white. 

Nesta watched her reflection as something dark trickled out of her nose. 

Blood. 

Nesta didn't bother wiping it. 

She would be covered in blood soon enough anyway. 

Her mind was so clear. She could see for miles. She was so much happier. Life was simple now. Black and white, not grey areas. 

Nesta turned, one of the shards of opal catching her eye. They were still mini dragons breaths. Scattered all around her, like vermon, the sea of purple and orange taunted her. 

Pulling the blade from the water, Nesta swiped a handful of them from the ground. She shook off the cloak, and sat on her knees. Laying the guard of the sword on her lap, Nesta arranged the opals on the silver flame. 

Willing the magic to her hand was so easy, like breathing. It again gloved her hand, and Nesta placed that white magic over the opals. 

And pushed. 

The sharp edges of the opal dug into her palm, slicing her skin and drawing blood. Even through the white magic Nesta could see the darkness drip onto the sword. Nesta kept pushing. 

Her other hand was placed under the guard, that same magic twisting and melting and rotting out the silver, making room. 

When Nesta removed her hand, the dragons breath opals stared up at her from thier cage of silver. 

Nesta had inlaid the opals into the flame, the silver bent and molded around them so they sat perfectly with the shape of the flame. 

Lifting the blade, Nesta almost laughed to see blood dropping out from underneath the opals. When she had cut her palm, the blood had seeped into the space between the opals and the silver. 

Her palm had already healed, but again Nesta did not wipe the leftover blood off. 

Nesta stood with her back to the sun, lifting the sword infront of herself. 

The reflection she saw was a forigen creature. Ragged, bloody face greeted her. Two glowing white eyes taunted her, dared her to look back. The sun behind her was hot orange at the horizion, making the horizion line look like a world on fire, burning and burning. 

Nesta smiled. 

Sheathing the blade, Nesta picked up her cloak and whirled it around her shoulders. Nesta stepped into the river, the water kissing her calfs and dancing over her boots as she waded to the otherside. 

Nesta was thankful for the water. It centered her, blessed her. Graced her heart with a lightness, incomparable to what she was about to do. 

Stepping onto the otherside of the riverbed, Nesta turned as she held her hand out and blasted that white magic to the other side of the riverbed. 

Trees creaked and fell and part of the cliff caved in. Birds who had been hiding in the underbrush or canopy squaked and flew for saftey. Nesta watched as the shards of opal were covered by the debree, smiling all the while. 

Turning back, Nesta continued walking through the woods. She let the gloves of magic swirl over her hands, up her forearms.

The power of death which Nesta Archeron stole from the cauldron itself graced her arms like lace gloves on a queen as she strode through the woods. 

No, not a queen, spitfire.

A God. 

Nesta was not afraid to agree.


	36. Chapter 36- Gagged

The soundless snow fell around her in thick flakes, gathering in her hair and eyelashes. Her cloak swished against the cold ground, the white dust not yet coating the forest floor. 

This was the first snow fall of the season. The Rite would be soon. 

The females had a right to be there. Nesta would make sure of it. 

That was her plan tonight.

The Pit was crawling with the males who thought what the females did was thier decesion. Males who thought that they were in charge.

Nesta would show them how wrong they were. 

The clamor of drunk men could be heard through the muted silence of the snowfall. Nesta didn't know how long it had taken her to get there, only that the sun had set long ago. What had only taken Sera an hour of flight had taken Nesta half the night. She was not tired, though. Not worn out or wanting for food or water. She kept pace, kept that magic on her arms and burning in her soul.

Ahead, she could makeout from inbetween the trees the soft glow of a fire- the makeshift guard station. 

The Pit was laid out much like a minature version of Windhaven. Main enterance, a perimiter; it even had a tavern and cabins where the patrons could stay. Knowing that what they were doing was immoral and wanting to keep buisness private, there were two gaurds set posted outside the two tall evergreen trees that marked the enterance. 

Nesta had spent much of the walk wondering how many women had suffered in this wooded Hel. How many women had been dragged through the trees and never returned to thier families- or dragged through the trees by the hands of thier family. 

It was quite the sophisticated operation, the guards changing shifts and there being levels of command within the Pit. 

Nesta hadn't known, but Terthal had been quite high up on the ladder. Tonight, she would pay some of his freinds a visit. 

She have gone in, magic bared and raging. But Nesta was begening to understand herself, understand what breed of monster she wanted to shape herself into. 

She was not a hammer or an axe, but a filet knife. Precise, vicious, sharp, consistent. 

Quiet and dark. Waiting. 

The King of Hybern had once called her a hellcat. As Nesta reigned in her magic and stalked closer to the guards under the cover of the black sky, she supposed he was not far off. 

Nesta had observed for a long while from the trees after her last visit. Aside from the chaos that brought a greedy smile to her lips, she wittnessed a shifting of the gaurd. It happened every hour, on the hour. A few hundred yards from the guard post, Nesta decided to wait until the next shift in guard before making her move. 

The forest was heavy, the snow was coming down as a sheet of white, and Nesta was downwind of them, all the aspects of the night working in her favor. She still had to be careful, though. It was never lost on her that these males were warriors trained for hundreds of years. She had to be painstakingly cautious to ensure her position was not compromised. 

Nesta dropped to one knee behind a massive pine, and waited. 

Her body was still, rigid in the cold, and like the hellcat she was, she waited until the guards changed. 

Focus unchallenged by the snow or the cold or the raging ocean of magic withing her, Nesta watched as two males emerged from between the pines. A breif exchange of words, pats on backs, and the two new guards took up the post as the two others entered the Pit, releived of duty. 

Nesta gave it five minutes, counting the time with her breath. Let them settle into the night, into the snow. Let them get comfortable. 

You've gotten good at this, Spitfire. 

A greatful smile danced across her chapped lips. Nesta stood slowly, careful not to make a sound. Drawing up the hood of her cloak, Nesta emerged from behind the tree. 

Still in the shroud of darkness, the men didn't notice her at first. It felt so powerful, being their death and them not even being able to see it. Relishing in that feeling, Nesta stepped out of the darkness and started toward the men. 

At the first crunch of the fresh snow under her boots, both of the men turned her way. 

At the first ignition of her magic at her fingertips, both of the men stepped back. 

Nesta remembered that first day, when she had made 9 grown Illyrian warriors tremble by simply saying she was a witch. 

She would give anything to know the terror they felt seeing it in action. 

Nesta rallied that magic to her hand, dancing like a dagger between her fingertips. 

"Back up!" One of them barked, drawing his sword. 

Nesta cooed, "Quiet now, little one." 

Throwing the dagger of white with her extended hand, the magic wrapped around his mouth, stifiling the male. He dropped his sword and began muffling a cry as that white magic began to eat away at the skin on his face. 

Nesta didn't relish in this, though, as she threw that same magic at the second guard. Before he could scream, that white magic seared itself around his mouth. Nesta let it wrap around his throat, the skin turning dark and flakey as it was rotted away by her magic. 

Both of the males were on the ground, writhing.

Nesta stepped over them, careful to drag her cloak over thier convulsing forms, and into the Pit. 

It was as much of a Hel hole as she remembered. 

Even from the enterance, Nesta could see around the large bonfire in the middle of camp, drunken males with thier arms slung around terrorified females. Some had thier hands bound. Some were unconcious. 

The greedy hands sliding over cold skin, undeserving eyes taking and thankless. This place was a purgatory for those who had done nothing wrong. A lifetime of trauma for the sake of a males urges. 

Nesta should burn them all. 

But there were only three people Nesta wanted to see tonight. 

Nesta clung to the ring of trees around the camp, willing herself to be unnoticed. She had a good hour before anyone noticed the guards bodies, and no one would be entering or leaving the Pit this late into the evening. 

His name was Daron. Rosie had told Nesta about him. He was the one with Rosie that night, when Nesta had decapitated Terthal. 

Nesta remembered watching Sera grab Rosie and run as she stood facing him. He was not an Illyrian. No, the Pit attracted the immoral from all over Prythian. His hair was stark white and his eyes were a pericing blue. His skin was pale, like the moon on a clear night. Nesta had guessed he was from the Winter court. Holding reservations because of inner court tensions, Nesta had left him with only one mark- a gash down his palm. He had fought valiantly, but she hadn't intended to kill him that night, no matter how she wanted to. She didn't really even need to injure him.

She didn't need to mark him as a target. He was at the top of her list. 

Between the tents, Nesta caught glimpses of those around the fire. She scoured the faces for that white hair, that snow skin. 

Then, just past the fire, exiting the tavern on the other side of camp, Nesta saw him. 

Daron practically blended into the snowy night. He had a female by the hair, throwing her around as he dragged her to the nearest tent. The girl couldn't have been older then herself, maybe not even coming into her adulthood yet. She cried out, even from across camp Nesta could hear the desperation in the young females voice. 

Nesta moved through the tents, hood up and head down. When engaging in illigeal activities, one tended to keep to themselves. Weaving through the sounds of torture as she passed, Nesta silently vowed to each and every female she knew was behind the burlap walls she passed that they would be free. 

Three tents away. Nesta counted as she crept closer, her breaths even and her hand on her blade. Daron was a battle hardened warrior, skilled and trained and tested. Nesta, however, had magic and the element of suprise. 

And a female who wanted him dead. 

Nesta ducked into the darkness behind the tent. She had to block out the whimpers and cries coming from inside the tent to focus. 

Three deep breaths, and then Nesta ducked into the tent. 

The female noticed her first. 

Daron was on top of her, holding her hands above her head. She was gagged and bound, but fighting to buck him off with all her energy. Her eyes went wide when she saw Nesta. 

Daron noticed her stop moving, and followed her eyes to where Nesta stood at the door. 

One look in his eyes and Nesta could tell he remembered her. 

Before he could cry out, Nesta threw that white magic around his mouth, gagging him just like he had the female beneath him. He jumped off the cot, coming at Nesta with a small dagger from the bedside table. 

Nesta ducked and thrust an elbow into his side, but Daron was quick to recover, grabbing a handful of Nesta's cloak and throwing her onto the ground before him. Daron dropped his knife as he hovered over her.

She kicked her legs up, hitting Daron in the jaw as the tried to clamber on top of her, knocking him back.

Nesta watched as the female drove the dagger Daron had dropped into his back. 

Daron's eyes went wide, those ocean blues cresting into something like fear. The female twisted the blade, and Nesta heard the crunching of tendons and bones under his skin. 

Nesta stood. 

She was not needed here anymore. But still, she couldn't leave without a souviner. 

The young female looked woozy as she pulled the blade from Darons back. He dropped to his knees, faceplanting into the frozen ground. 

She had struck him right on his spine, effectively paralyzing him. When she had twisted the knife, she must have hit some blood vessel, as his porclean skin was already covered in dark crimson. 

If he wasn't completely dead, he would bleed out soon. 

Nesta turned, facing the young female. This complicated things. 

The female was shaking, her hands covered in that same crimson. She was wearing only a chimise, the thin silk doing nothing agaisnt the cold. 

"Here." Nesta whispered, holding her cloak out to the girl. 

She didn't look up, did not extend her arm to take it. 

Nesta knew what that felt like. That emptiness in the girls eyes. So Nesta stepped over Darons body, blocking it from her view. 

"Can you tell me your name?" She whispered, kneeling in front of the girl. 

The young female stuttered. "Ma..Maria. My name is Maria." 

Nesta nodded. "Well, Maria," She secured her cloak around the girl and stood, offering her hand. 

Maria took it, her palms cold and clamy. 

"Here's what you're going to do." 

Nesta instructed Maria to do just as she had done earlier- weave her way through the tents and out the front gates. Nesta warned about the bodies. Maria only nodded absently. 

"I will meet you behind the nearest pine to the gates in exactly 45 minutes. Do you understand?" 

Maria took a deep breath, finally looking up to Nesta. "What if you're not there in 45 minnutes?" 

"Trust me." Nesta said, ushering Maria to the flap of the tent. "I will be." 

Maria shuffled off outside, and Nesta turned to Daron. 

Her magic had done it's work, his head seperated in half by his jaw. It was the upper half, with his eyes and nose and top lip, that Nesta would bring back. 

It was a shame he didn't suffer longer. 

Nesta was inclined to agree. 

The smell of blood was not unommon in this place, but to much of it would draw the fae like dogs. 

Nesta set aside his head, or the top half of it anyway, and knelt before the body. Her hands hovered just above his back, and she let that white hot magic consume him. 

Nesta watched as it ravaged over his body like wilfire, the white crests of magic eating away at his skin and bones. It felt good, to let it out and let it truly devour and decay properly. 

When it was all said and done, all that was left of the great Daron was a pile of ash and a few scattered bones. 

Nesta stood, brushing off her clothes, and picked up the head from the floor. The white hair was soft, sturdy against her fingers as she lifted it into the satched she carried. 

Witches exicutioner blade whined agianst the sheath at her side, dissapointed to still be unweilded. 

Nesta ran her fingernail over the curved edge at her hip. 

Soon. 

The satched weighed at her side as Nesta blew out the lamp and slipped outside.


	37. Chapter 37- Legendary

Nesta stepped out of the tent, taking a path intentionally past the campfire toward the tavern. As she walked past, even through the white fog of the snow, she noted how the males around the campfire withdrew from her direction, shrinking away from her. 

She was high off that feeling, the idea of men cowering in her presence. 

Powerless. All her life she had been powerless- powerless to help her sister, powerless in poverty, powerless against herself. 

But now, she was the only one with true power. Now, others were powerless in her presence. 

As she walked past the fire, she dared turn her head toward the gates. Her grey cloak dissapeared into the darkness past the trees, Maria safe under the fur lined fabric. 

Fae were supposedly masters of the art of trade, and Nesta supposed she would like to make a habit of trading a life for a life. Maria was saved, Daron was dead. The world was rid of another peice of scum. 

Before the night was over, Nesta hoped to add a few more to the trash. 

It was risky, she thought, ascending the stairs to the tavern enterance. Being out in the open, with the Witches blade glinting at her side, the satchel that smelt of death- everyone would know as soon as she opened the door. 

How far can you go? 

The ache, the curiosity inside of her would not give one inch. 

How powerful are you?

Nesta intended to find out.

The brass handle was freezing against her palm. Nesta pulled the door open, stepping into the warm tight space of the tavern. 

The snow fell in around her, the wind shutting the door behind her. As soon as she stepped into the space, every eye was on her. 

In the silence, Nesta could hear every males heartbeat. Could hear thier pulse quicken as she took a lazy step into the space. Then another. Then another. 

Nesta sauntered toward the bar, her footfalls agianst the wooden floor daring anyone to say anything. 

One year ago, she wouldn't even have been able to enter a place like this. 

Now, she met the stare of every male with fire in her eyes. 

And every single one of them looked away. Several of them took long swigs of whatever was in thier glass.

The space was cozy enough, the large fireplace to the far end near the bar providing ample heat for the entire seating area. There were booths on either wall and open table seating in the center. It was small, probably only able to accomidate twenty or thirty patrons at once.

Cowards, all of them. As soon as she passed, she could feel the venom and rage at her back. Yet, every single one whos eye she met held nothing but fear in thier heart. 

Illyrians had always been deathly afraid of witches. It was a foolish fear, no witch in thier history actually giving them reason to be so afraid. 

But Nesta intended to be the witch that made them all fear death. The witch they told stories about to thier children to keep them from misbehaving. A witch of legend. 

As she approached the bar, she noticed the only female in the entire establishment was also the only one showing no fear. The female sat behind the bar, next to the old bearded male who Nesta presumed was the bar tender. He was practically quaking. 

But the female looked to Nesta in awe. 

Nesta was the first to break the silence, and she spoke to the young woman. 

"Take your leave of this place. Past the pines at the gates, there is another young woman named Maria, she will keep you safe until my return." 

The young woman, wide eyed and unblinking, nodded. 

The old male next to her moved to grab her as she jumped from the stool. 

Nesta was faster. 

Throwing out a streak of white, Nesta watched her beautiful magic tear through his arm, and relished in the solid thunk as the limb hit the ground. The old man screamed, grabbing at the stump left on his shoulder. 

But it was too late. Nesta turned toward the patrons of the tavern, watched thier faces and smelt thier fear as Nesta's magic ate away at the males skin. 

She didn't have to look behind her to know what was happening. She could picture it, the white streaking over his body, leaving black soggy skin in it's wake as his body was consumed by her magic. 

She could feel it, feel her power cascading over him, through him. 

The female was at the door, holding it open but watching as the male fell to the ground and ceaced moving. 

Nesta looked to that young female and gave her one last instruction, a kind smile gracing her face. 

"Close the door behind you, sweetness." 

The young female did as she was told, her rapid footsteps down the stairs echoing through the now silent room. 

The males watching her said nothing. One or two of them had vomited watching the old man decay. 

Nesta simply stared at them. She took her satchel off, setting it down on the counter. Nesta took her time, looking to each one of them as she brushed the snow from her hair and her clothes. Then, Nesta perched herself on the edge of the bar, setting both her legs on barstools, and drew the Witches Excutioner blade. 

Laying it across her lap, Nesta stilled, and watched the men. 

They all just stared at her. Moments of silence built an anticipation in Nesta that she had never felt before. A delight that was so bountiful it seethed out of every pore. 

Finally, one male toward the back stood. 

In a gruff voice riddled with fake confidence, he said, "We give you this oppertounity to leave."

Nesta smiled. 

"I give you the oppertounity to beg."

Not a single male breathed. She could hear thier hearts, smell thier fear. 

No one answered. Nesta dipped her head, her eyes meeting the males nearst to her. 

A stocky, older male with skin like the golden sunlight. Were he not here, were he not about to die, Nesta might have found him favorable. 

But he was here. He was in the Pit. 

He deserved to die for it. They all did. 

Nesta dropped down from the edge of the bar, holding the Witches blade in her palm. It sang to her, called for the white magic to envelop it. Nesta granted it's request. 

Dropping into her power, it flowed over the blade like water. Connecting, becoming a part of the silver and steel. 

Suddenly, as if suddenly realizing what was happening, several males from the tables in the back frantically ran for the door. 

Nesta pitched a white hot ball toward the door, knocking it shut on the head of one of the males with a sickening crunch. His body collapsed agianst the wood, blocking the door for the rest of the males who stopped dead in thier tracks. 

There was now a hole in the door though, and any secrecy Nesta might have had was blown. 

She didn't care. 

Let them all see. Let all of Illyria know. 

Let all of Prythian know it was her- the Witch of Death- who drug all these males to Hel. Let every man, woman, and child in the living realm and beyond know Nesta Archeron was not Cauldron blessed. 

She was Cauldron Cursed. And it was the cursed amung them who walked with Death like a lover, hand in hand. 

Nesta unleashed herself onto the patrons. 

It was lightning, the way her magic shot through the males in the crowd. Before any of them could move, she had a third of them in ashes. 

They were not idle fools. These were warriors. The males closest to her leapt up, weapons drawn. 

Oh, this is going to be fun. 

Nesta lifted the Witches blade and felt the jolt in her bones of metal hitting metal. She used the leverage agianst the bar and kicked the males knee out, downing him. With a single thrust, the Witches blade sliced through his abdomen, a spray of blood Nesta's face. Nesta did not break, did not relent as she cast another round of that white lightning through the Witches blade. The male on her sword melted before her, his boots the only remaining artifact that the male had ever existed. 

The shot had hit several more Illyrians, and did nothing but anger those remaining. Nesta spat out the blood in her mouth. 

They suddenly had a drive, a gusto for thier fallen comrades. But these males were nothing, were specks of dust in the wake of Nesta Archeron. 

Nesta turned, a lob of white power in one hand and the Witches blade in her other. A male's sword grazed her abdomen, but before the male could pull back Nesta had brough the Witches blade down on his outstreched hand. The male clutched his forearm, crying out.

In one motion, Nesta spun and decapitated the male, his head hitting the ground with a wet thump. 

Two males approached her at once, one on either side, both attacking at once. Nesta simply ducked and the two men ran eachother through, their warm blood trickling down her neck. Nesta stood and pushed them over to the floor as they bled out. 

Behind you. 

Nesta didn't turn, simply flung a white hot streak through the air behind her followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. 

One left, one male left standing. Nesta smiled as she stepped over bodies and ashes and the slug like skin that scattered itself over the tavern floor. 

The male, an older male with skin freckled like the night, fell to his knees. Nesta continued advancing, watching the male cower and skitter away from her like an insect. 

He was now agaisnt the door, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Nesta stood above him. The only sound was the plip plip of blood dripping off her blade onto the wooden floor. 

"Wh..." The male sobbed. "What are you waiting for?" 

The wraith above him smiled, blood still covering her teeth. 

"I'm giving you time to pray." 

The old man covered his face with his hands. Nesta decided that was all the time the male needed. 

Nesta heaved the Witches blade back, before thrusting it through the old males chest. The wood of the door behind him groaned and splintered as the Witches blade came out the other side. 

She watched, face to face with him, as the white magic from the blade began to consume him. She watched the life begin to leave his eyes. 

And in that moment, Nesta Archeron lost a part of herself she knew she would never get back. 

The white magic receeded as Nesta pulled it back into herself. This man would die by her blade and by her blade alone. 

Nesta watched his eyes literally dull thier green color, heard his lungs heaving. 

Nesta sat and watched him die. 

When he head breathed for the last time, Nesta tore the blade back out of his chest, and watched his body slump over. Next to the body of the male who's head she had crushed with the door. Next to the ashes of a male she had blinked out of existance without a second thought. 

Nesta stood and looked over the tavern. 

Looked over the carnage she had caused. Bodies, blood, broken wings, overturned tables. She waited for the guilt. Waited for the sting of death to bring her to her senses. 

Nothing came. 

So Nesta sheathed her blade, walked back across the graveyard she had created, and grabbed the satchel from the bar. 

When she left the tavern, she did not clean up after herself. She did not bother burning the bodies or using her power to wipe the remains from the earth. 

Nesta left them there, the males who deserved it, to rot where they fell.

No one was at the fire outside. In fact, no one approached her as she walked out in the open through the Pit. Right out the front gates. 

They would not let this deed go unpunished. They would come for her. 

Nesta could not wait. 

Maria and the other young female were just where they said they would be. Both recoiled in horror when they saw Nesta. She could only imagine what she looked like through the snowy darkness. 

Still, Nesta's job now was to get these females back to Windhaven safely. Or,if thier families were the ones who had sold them off, get them to a place where they would be safe. 

Nesta crouched down in front of them, both huddled under the cloak Nesta had given Maria. 

"You're both freezing." 

Both of the girls nodded. 

Nesta sighed, exending her hand. Both girls flinched. Nesta did not retract her hand, but lit a single flame of her magic at her palm. 

"Many people in this life will seek to hurt you. To wound you so deeply you can never forget." 

That white flame danced in her fingers, and Nesta made it dance through the air around the girls. They stared in awe, watching it through the still falling snow. 

"I am not one of those people." Nesta whispered.

It landed on the cloak, and quickly engulfed the cloak in white magic. The decay would create warmth for the girls, and Nesta would make sure it would warm them the whole trip back. 

Nesta saw thier shoulders relax against the warmth, could hear thier heart beats calm. 

"Come." Nesta stood, and the girls followed suit. 

Marina breathed, "Thank you." 

Nesta smiled, the other female nodding in agreement. 

"Marina." She nodded at the young female, then looked to the other with an eyebrow raised. 

"Kiam. My name is Kiam." Her eyes glittered dark, reflecting the night sky above them. 

"Marina and Kiam." Nesta observed the to females, how they shuffled from foot to foot, how they couldn't look past Nesta, past this moment. 

"Let's get you both somewhere safe. How does that sound?" 

Both girls nodded, Kiam wrapping her half of the cloak tighter around herself. 

Nesta smiled slightly, turned, and began the treck back through the woods. 

Where Nesta would go next, though, she had no idea.


	38. Chapter 38- Ready to Run

Hey guys. I'm so sorry this update took so long, this one was just a bit more difficult for me to write. I hope you all enjoy!!

Kiam and Maria were silent as they approached the edge of Windhaven. They had been silent the whole walk, never complaining and keeping pace as Nesta led them through the woods. Nesta kept her magic on the cloak, keeping the girls warm. 

"This is as far as I go." Nesta spoke, the three of them stopping just off the tents, the warm fires glowing like lanterns from the distance. 

Kiam nodded, looking to Maria in some kind of comfort. 

"Are you both going to be safe going back to your families?" Nesta placed her hand on the silver of the Witches Blade, feeling the cold metal warm to her touch. 

Maria shook her head. "No. I-" She huffed, a deep breath in. "No, I won't be." 

"Okay." Nesta watched Maria's face fall, even in the darkness. "I can bring you somewhere safe, Maria."

The girl nodded. Nesta only then noticed the ginger locks on her head, matted and frizzy from the events of the evening. 

"Kiam?" 

She nodded. "I'll be safe with my family." 

Kiam's hair was black, braided back in rows on her head. 

Nesta wondered why she was only noticed details about the girls now, instead of when she had first seen them. 

"I can get there myself from here. You take Maria." Kiam's voice was smooth, calming Nesta's bones, waking her up. 

"You let me know if you need anything, Kiam." Nesta's voice was forigen in her own ears. 

Kiam nodded. "Where do I find you?" 

Nesta thought for a moment. She didn't know. 

Sighing, Nesta spoke. "Find Cassian, the General, and he will help you find me." 

Again, the girl nodded. She looked to Maria, shared a moment, then slipped out from under the cloak and into the snowy night. Nesta prayed to the Mother that she would make it back to her family safe. 

But if Kiam said she could handle herself, Nesta wouldn't doubt her. 

"Her family is very kind. She'll be alright, you don't have to worry about her." Maria spoke softly. 

Nesta turned to the redhead, now completely wrapping herself in the cloak. 

"You know her, then? Her family?" Nesta asked, beginning to walk along the tree line. 

Maria followed as she spoke. "Kiam and I work with Emerie in her shop. We've spent a lot of time together, the three of us." 

They crept from the tree line to the nearest tent, wandering through the tarps and ghosts of campfires long since ashen. Nesta listened, noting how the girl stepped in Nesta's footprints as they walked. 

"We walk down the same path to get back home. Her little brother always waits for her on the front stoop." 

Her foot caught on something underneath the snow, but she only staggered a bit before catching back up to Nesta. 

"Her father once invited me in for soup last winter during a blizzard when I couldn't make it all the way back to my house. It was delicious." 

Nesta continued weaving through the tents, slowing her pace a bit for Maria.She stopped, crouching down next to a tent blocking them from the wind and snow. She didn't know why she said it, but Nesta spoke anyway as Maria crouched next to her.

"My sister caught a doe once, and she had gotten lucky at the market, too, so we had vegetables and sweet bread from some vendors." Nesta smiled, remembering how Elain's face lit up when Feyre had taken the bread from her pouch. 

"The High Lady?" Maria asked, raising a chuckle from Nesta's throat. 

"No." She spoke softly, " Not the High Lady. Back then, she was just my sister." 

Nesta shook her head. "Anyway, she made this stew that to this day is the tastiest thing I've ever had. It wasn't smart, we should have saved the bread and vegatables and cured more of the meat to last longer into the winter." 

Maria looked Nesta over. Nesta answered the question Maria was thinking. 

"But yes." Nesta nodded. "It was worth it. It lasted us three nights, and it was better every night." 

A small smile danced on Maria's lips, slightly blue from the cold. 

"Come on, let's get you somewhere warm." Nesta stood again, Maria rising after her.

__________________________________________

"She's right." Iona said, filling the silence of the room. 

Lori had spoken her peace, had pushed through the trembling in her voice to present the idea to the others. 

Amren said nothing, a gothic presence in the corner. 

Verra sat next to Iona, thier hands dwarfed by the large Illyrian's. Lori had noticed it as soon as she walked in, the pull between the two of them. 

Jaida spoke next, her eyes closed and brows creased. "I'm not sure this is the best way to move forward." 

"We aren't moving foreward at all, that's the problem." Sera snipped, stepping away from the wall. 

Iona's room felt crowded in the best and worst ways. On one hand, she was surrounded by those she loved, strong powerful women who were planning a way to a better future. On the other hand, those women were fighting and struggling trying to figure out the best way to that future.

"And we won't move foreward if you all die. If any of you die out there, if will only prove what the Illyrian males think." Jaida retorted. 

Verra spoke, quiet and calm. "Several Illyrian males die in the Rite every year." 

The shadow in the back spoke, her silver eyes cutting through the room. 

"The males are going to hold you to an impossible standard. If even one person dies, they will see it as a failure for all of you." Amren said, looking to the floor in thought. 

Iona shifted, her thumb brushing across the back of Verra's hand. 

"But for them to see it as remotely valid, we have to send out at least five or six females. Otherwise it means nothing." Lori tried to restrian her tone against the painfully circular conversation. 

They were back to square one. 

"At this point, do we even have any other options?" Verra's kind voice, like music, wafted through the tense air. 

Lori answered. "Rhys is swept up with Ironcrest and Kallon and Feyre, so he will be no help. Even if we could get any kind of support from Az or Cassian, which I highly doubt, they would have to report it back to Rhys who would more then likely shut us down." 

Amren chuckled, a low mischevious sound. "Not to sound treasonous, but why would you have to listen to him?" 

Iona blinked. "What are you talking about?" 

Jaida nodded. "He's our High Lord."

Her silver eyes shrugged, and Amren crossed her legs as she sat across from Jaida. 

"He's also narrow minded. He thinks in the present, always about how he can fix this moment but fails to note how moments build into a future. Feyre is the forward thinker of the two of them." 

Amren continued. "Even if he tried to tell you to stop, he won't be thinking about the positive impacts your actions will have on future generations. He'll only be thinking about how to keep you safe from your own action right then and there." 

Sera shook her head. "It makes him brave, I think." 

Another bitter laugh from Amren. "It makes him naive, but brave and naive seem to mean the same thing nowadays." 

"Amren." Lori hissed, perhaps sharper then she intented. Still, even with all eyes on her in the small room, Lori continued. 

"You're saying if we go to Az or Cassian for help and they take it to Rhysand, you would defend us if we directly disobeyed the order to stop from the High Lord?" 

The Ancient One smiled, wide and cruel. "I know what it means to be supressed and confined and contained and held back like all of you are now." 

A shiver ran down her spine.

"So I'm saying I will hold him down while you all run if that's what it comes to." 

________________________________________________________________________ 

Nesta rapped gently on the flap of the tent. 

"Hello?" Rosie chirped from the other side. 

The lightness of her voice made Nesta smile. "It's me." She whispered. 

"Oh!" There was a shuffling from inside, and then Rosie's face appeared opening the flap. 

"Oh..." She stilled as soon as she saw Nesta's face. Nesta hadn't seen herself, but she could imagine she was bloody and horrifying. 

"I know, I'll clean up later. Can we come in?" Nesta asked, Maria small behind her. 

"Yes! Mother above, come in, come in." Rosie stepped aside and allowed Nesta to pass through, along with Maria. 

Nesta turned to make sure Maria got inside the tent alright, only to see Rosie and Maria staring at eachother. Rosie let out a small sob, before crushing Maria against her chest. Maria's red locks blended with Rosie's blonde, and she hugged the female back with ferocity. 

Nesta watched as the two females before her grew smiles as bright as she'd ever seen. 

Rosie pulled away first, examining every inch of Maria.

"Look at you, you poor thing. Have you eaten? You must be freezing! Are you hurt? Show me! Show me where it hurts!" Rosie frantically ran her hands over the girl, taking the cloak off and setting it on the bed as she led Maria to the chair in the corner.

Maria, to her credit, seemed used to this kind of questioning from Rosie, responding to the questions as soon as they were posed. "No, I haven't eaten. I'm not too cold actaully. No, I'm not hurt. Well, I guess my head hurts a little, but it's fine."

Nesta gathered her cloak in her hands. "So you know eachother, then." 

Rosie looked to Nesta, as if she had forgotten she was even there. 

Maria answered for her. "Rosie workes with me at training with the General. We also..." Her voice trained off, and she brushed a red curl from her head. 

"We were there for eachother in the Pit. Isn't that right, Mar?" Rosie spoke, looking back to Maria. 

The girl smiled sadly. "Yeah. We're there for eachother." 

Nesta nodded. "She can't go home. I was hoping to convince you to let her stay for a while, but it doens't seem like that will be a problem?" 

Rosie laughed, hugging the girl to her chest. As she spoke, though, she looked directly to Nesta. 

"My home is your home." She said, that kind voice brightening the room. 

"You are always welcome." 

Suddenly, even with her kind eyes and open invitation, Nesta looked away. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't look at Rosie like that.

"I have to go." She said, wrapping her cloak around herself. 

Rosie scrunched her brows, letting go of Maria. "Nesta, wait-"

But Nesta was already out the door, already letting the cold sink into her bones. 

She heard Rosie call after her, but she continued on.

You have no buisness there. It's best you left before you ruined one of them. 

"I know." Nesta whispered to the wind. 

Her feet traveled, but she didn't know where. Her head was down, the cloak wrapped tightly around herself. She was unsettled, ungrounded. Her hands shook where they clutched the cloak. 

You do not have a home. You cannot create one. 

Nesta squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of the cold. "I know." The wind whipped the words away before her ears could even hear it.

Did you think my silence meant your freedom? Your happiness?

"No." Nesta spoke louder this time, louder for her own ears to hear it. Her feet were running, carrying her through the forest. She lifted her head, her eyes watching the trees blur past her as she ran. 

You cannot out run me, Spitfire. This blight is yours alone to bear. You know that. 

Nesta began pumping her arms as she ran. "No." She barked, her voice echoing off the silent fallen snow. The Witches blade bounced at her side, the satchel along with it. Still, Nesta ran. 

You have learned by now there is no escape from yourself, Spitfire. Or from me.

"No!" She threw the proclimation to the wind, the snow, the forest. Her lungs burned with every breath, her legs screaming, but still, Nesta ran. 

You stole this. Every breath, every mistake- you have earned this curse.

"STOP!" Nesta screamed as she ran like she never had before. "PLEASE, STOP."

Ahead, a clearing. An opening. An exit. Nesta pushed herself harder as she ran. Cold streaked over her temples, tears torn from her eyes as she sprinted. 

Her feet were in the water before she could stop herself. 

The cold water and the ring of frost around the lake planted her feet firmly in the mud, her arms thrown into the water to catch herself. Nesta careened into the lake, her arms catching her face mere inches from the water. 

Nesta took a moment. She dug her nails into the slime under her hands.

Silence greeted her. 

She pushed her arms up and stared at her reflection in the water. 

She was a mess. Her hair was covered in slow and blood and leaves. Splotches of blood smeared and splattered across her face. Dark circled dangled from her bottom lashes. She looked derranged, insane. 

Looking past her reflection deeper into the water, Nesta watched as the steadily calming water melted away streaks of red from her hands. She didn't dare look further up her arms or down her body to see how much she had streaking over the rest of her. 

How many men had she killed? Who's blood was on her face, in her hair, washing off her hands? 

Look up. 

Nesta didn't dare. 

She knew what was waiting for her. Who was watching her. 

She stilled, still looking down at herself in the water. 

Nesta took three deep breaths. 

Look at me. 

Inhale, exhale. 

Nes, look at me. 

Inhale, exhale. 

The second he took a step toward her, Nesta bolted.


End file.
